Unscathed
by aimdiscord
Summary: According to the doctors, sleep meant coma, and coma meant death. But secretly, Kagome knew they were worried over nothing. The truth was that she had already died once - She remembered that much.
1. Hospital

Author's Note: Um… My father always told me to "write from life" and my professor suggested that I keep a diary. But I decided to keep a journal of my experiences, in the form of fan-fiction! Because it is more fun, for everyone involved?

So… due to a (not so very) recent car accident, I have finally figured out how to write a story in which Naraku wins, and everybody else looses. Welcome to my brain.

**Unscathed**

Part .001 – Hospital

Her shoulder was trembling, to the point that it forced her to roll over in bed. Eyes open, eyes shut, the world did not look very different, either way. However, she realized eventually the reason why her body swayed – there was a woman, in uniform, standing next to her bed.

"No," she moaned, unhappily. "Stop it."

Somehow, the rest of the world did not understand how badly that she wanted to rest. It was all she could think about, at the moment. Rest.

"Wake up," the nurse replied, softly, but firmly. "Don't fall asleep."

When she tried to hit the nurse, in retaliation, she missed. Unfortunately, the bed had bars on the side of it, preventing her from conveying how badly she wanted to rest, in a physical fashion.

"Careful, there." Although she could tell she was being reprimanded, she could also hear the humor in the voice that was speaking to her. "You might hurt yourself."

And that seemed unfair too. She had not been trying to hurt _herself_. Obviously, she had been trying to hurt the nurse. Perhaps the next time, she would be more successful.

Blinking, blearily, Kagome stared up at the darkened ceiling of the room. Where was she? This was not _her_ room.

After moving some items, pushing some buttons, and otherwise completing various tasks that Kagome could not comprehend, the nurse glanced at her one more time, before leaving the room.

"Thank you for stopping by…" mumbled the dark-haired, blue-eyed girl toward her captor. It seemed important to remain polite, even though she despised the nurse, even though she wanted to kill her. Manners were always essential – being polite made other people happy, and making others happy was one of her goals in life.

Kagome tried to fall asleep again, unsuccessfully. Every time she tried, someone woke her up. According to the doctors, sleep meant coma, and coma meant death.

But secretly, Kagome knew they were worried over nothing. The truth was that she had already died once. She was Kikyou's reincarnation.

The Shikon no Tama had been born inside of her, and Kaede swore that this was the proof of her heritage. She remembered that much.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

There was a new room, and there were people inside of it. She glanced about, in confusion, wondering how her family had appeared, so suddenly, and where the nighttime had gone. She still felt exhausted; thus, it must still be evening. Yet now, she could see sunshine, pouring through a window.

The chamber had changed, as well. Her bed lay beneath a television, which was displaying bright colors and sounds, very quietly. There were flowers all around her. Her mother was smiling.

But of course, her mother was smiling. Mrs. Higurashi always smiled, always positive. Kagome wanted to be like her, when she grew older. In times of strife, parents began to seem more like bedrock, than like roots or leaves – the substance holding the tree up, instead of just nourishing it.

They said something to her, but she didn't really understand it. She replied, but she didn't really remember what she said. Still, her response seemed to please the others, and this made Kagome happy, in the end.

Outside the window, she realized she could see a beautiful green roof, covered in decaying, brown debris. It was fall, and the trees were bare now. Across the street, there was a row of strange buildings that she could not recognize, although they seemed ravishing too. She thought that she had never seen such a pleasant, harmonious scene.

She wondered why she felt that way, about a picture that was so manifestly inconsequential.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

It was night-time, again. The hallways were empty, except for her wheelchair. Before her, and behind her, there were double doors; to the right, there was an empty room, with a desk and a computer inside of it. She could hear a low, humming noise.

Why was she in a wheelchair? Kagome frowned. Wheelchairs were for crippled people. But she was not crippled. She did not have any injuries, and she was not in any pain.

Come to think of it, where exactly was this place?

It looked like… a hospital? But why would she be seated in a wheelchair, sitting inside of a hospital? Furthermore, patients in a hospital were rarely left alone, to sit in empty hallways, in the middle of the night. Correct?

Carefully, she rose from the wheelchair and began to explore the surrounding area. If she was in a hospital, then she had to leave. Only sick people stayed in hospitals, and she was not ill. It was inappropriate for her to be here. She was troubling everyone, as usual.

"_Evil will come after it_," the old priestess had told her. "_Not just demons, but people with evil in their hearts, as well. You must protect the Shikon no Tama_."

Rubbing her forehead, when it sent her a twinge of pain, Kagome shut her eyes and tried to remember. That voice sounded familiar. But for the life of her, she could not recall…

Quickly, footsteps began to patter down the hallway behind her, filling up the silence. "No, no! Wait, please," called an unfamiliar voice, sounding slightly regretful and contrite. "You promised that you wouldn't move, for me, and I believed you. That is my fault, I suppose."

Kagome turned, only to see a strange individual in scrubs, rapidly approaching her, with arms outstretched.

She was told it was time for another MRI. She was helped back into the wheelchair. She was taken away. Mostly, she was afraid, because she had no idea what was happening or why.

A hospital was a place that helped people to regain health, right? And everyone else seemed to expect her to stay in this location. So, maybe she was sick, after all.


	2. Disappearance

**Unscathed **

**Part .002 – Disappearance**

"So, what are you doing here?" she asked, with a bit of irritability seeping into her tone. The white-haired boy, reclining on the floor, refused to look her in the eye. His fire-rat robes gleamed an unearthly red in the dim interior of the hut, and she frowned at the back of his head.

Honestly, why would someone who had such awesome talents, as he did, act like he needed assistance in achieving his goals? The boy had fluffy, puppy-dog ears and silvery-hair, plus the coolest looking outfit that Kagome had seen in a long time. Yet he didn't seem to appreciate these things.

"Shikon no Tama," he grunted, dispassionately. "Give it to me."

"Hmm, it looks like he has finally grasped the power of the rosary." To one side, the old priestess smiled grimly, nodding in Kagome's direction. "I'm relieved that he has given up seeking the Shikon no Tama, for now."

Naturally, Kaede was putting these words in his mouth. So far, Inuyasha had _never_ claimed that he stopped seeking the Shikon no Tama. Perhaps the old priestess hoped to prove a point, indirectly.

On the other hand, Kagome was not nearly as skilled as Kaede at misdirection. Bluntly stating the obvious, just to make things a bit more clear, she held aloft the pinkish-purple stone in her palm. "Why would you want it anyway? You're strong, already. You don't need to borrow the power of the Shikon no Tama!"

Or at least, that was how it seemed to her.

Evidently, Inuyasha did not agree.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

The world bled into black and gray, and slowly, wearily, Kagome pushed herself out of bed and into the nearby bathroom. The room had changed again. Placing one hand against her head, she tried to hold the images that she had seen, in her mind.

There had been a hanyou – a half-demon, named Inuyasha. There had been an old priestess, with one eye – named Kaede. There had been a tiny bauble, a stone made of soul, ripped out of her side. There had been a wish, a wish that she needed to keep someone from making…

Come to think of it, the side of her torso _did_ hurt a great deal. Was that because of the bite she had received, from the centipede-demon-thing? Looking down to investigate the cause of her pain, she saw bandages wrapping her chest, her waist, and most of her right leg. Her right ankle was bound, as well.

Kagome gasped, weakly, pushing back into the wall. The pain was a numb ache, but she could feel it, throbbing within her. Flickering fluorescent bulbs in the ceiling illuminated her problem, for (what seemed like) the first time.

Well, damn. How did she miss noticing that, earlier? Whimpering mutely, Kagome gripped at the gown she wore, feeling the empty space around her neck, over and over and over again.

The space at her neck should not have been empty. There should have been a necklace, there.

But it was gone.

The Shikon no Tama was gone.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

"And can you tell me what day it is?" murmured the doctor, reassuringly. Kagome blinked, confused by the way the world kept shifting around her without her knowledge. Somehow, she was in bed, again, and the room was bright with fluorescent light, trickling down around her.

In the corner of the room, she could see her little brother Souta squirming uncomfortably. And when Souta noticed that she had glanced in his direction, he pointed frantically toward the calendar on the wall. So, she read this, out loud.

The date that it listed, of course, seemed impossibly wrong. As far as she could recall, it had been her birthday, recently. Hadn't it?

Still, as she turned to face the doctor, once more, Kagome noticed that the man behind the stethoscope seemed startled and pleased by her response. With a slight smile, he continued, "And can you tell me where you are?"

"In a hospital," mumbled an extremely tired and dispirited young girl. "I was injured."

The nameless doctor in white appeared encouraged by her progress. "Yes, that's correct, very good." Then, hesitating for only a moment, he asked hopefully, "And can you remember… what happened after you fell into the dry-well?"

"No," stated Kagome, blankly. The bitterness of the honest lie, the deceitful truth, it nearly choked her. "No. I'm sorry."

Apparently, this was the most lucid reply that she had given, since entering the hospital. It was just enough to encourage the physicians to allow her to return home, with her family.

Checking-out took forever. The linoleum floor tiles were green, with tiny brown dots in their patterning. A child ran shrieking down the hallway, happily, as an older family member chased her.

And as the streets blurred outside the taxi window, Kagome marveled at the sky. So… blue…

Beautiful, outstanding, dreamless, peaceful sleep awaited her, once she re-discovered her miraculous pink comforter on her snug, soft bed.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

The evening was calm, and the air was clear. And although part of her missed the modern-day marvels of air-conditioning and heating, the greater part of her heart enjoyed the fresh, temperate atmosphere around them. Bundling the dressing that Kaede loaned her around her chin, Kagome sighed deeply.

It had been two days since she fell down the Bone Eater's Well. Her Grandfather, her Mother, even Souta… the whole family was probably so worried about her, by now! Somehow, she had to find a way to return home!

As the hearth-fire at the center of Kaede's hut warmly crackled beside her, the dark-haired girl curled into the coverings that lay heavily on her chest. Outside, demons drew closer, inevitably enticed by the orb she wore around her neck. Inuyasha's claws scraped the roof tiles, occasionally, as he leapt and landed, silently attacking these hidden predators in the night.

Kagome slept, unaware of danger.


	3. Money

**Unscathed **

**Part .003 – Money**

As she entered, the living room breathed a reproachful warning into her ears. _Pay attention_, it told her. _Pay attention_.

No, it was not the first time that this had occurred. She knew such things were true, even though she could not recall how many times that it had happened to her, in the past. The situation was simple, really. So simple that it became complex. She had been here, once before, already.

Luckily, however, there were ways around such forgetfulness. All Kagome needed to do was relax, and then, ensure that she had not overlooked anything important. For instance, right now, she had walked into the living room on purpose…

What was that purpose?

When looking at the room did not provide her with any clues, Kagome's eyes traced their way down to her hands. And lo and behold – in her left hand, there was a note! Well, wasn't that helpful?

Unfolding the note, the dark-haired girl read it, grinning widely. The message was horrendously crinkled, but it proudly displayed her own handwriting. It said, "Sweep the shrine-steps."

So, trusting that if anyone would ever give her good advice, that such a person would be… well… _herself_, Kagome wandered outdoors. She traveled to the storage shed, removed their broom, and soon she found herself at the top of the shrine stairs.

But after sweeping off a few steps, Kagome began to frown. The stairway was already clean. Quite clean, in fact. It was very, very not dirty, to the point of being immaculate.

Which meant only one thing – she had already swept the shrine-steps. Based upon her own advice. Well, wasn't that… upsetting… Hmm.

Frustration burned inside of her, as she hurriedly shoved the broom back into its storage-closet and stomped back indoors. As she slid shut the outer door and took off her shoes, she overhead her grandfather and her mother conversing in the kitchen. Their voices were subdued, yet easily perceived from where she stood.

"We'll have to sell it," her mother spoke, first, morosely. "There is no other way…"

With a harried laugh, her grandfather scoffed at the mere idea. "This shrine has been in our family for generations! It is not for sale!"

Weakly, her mother's voice pressed the issue. "9,700,000 yen. I didn't know bills could get that high."

"Then, we shall take out loans," murmured her grandfather decisively, refusing to budge an inch on the subject of his home – his ultimate pride and joy. "I am not some infirm, feeble-minded old man, you know! I can find a job."

Standing inside the doorway, still hidden out of sight, Kagome's chest clenched. Nine million yen? Nine million? What were they talking about?

Feeling sick inside, the tension wound higher.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Looking back over one shoulder, Kagome steadied her resolve. The Bone Eater's Well, in the depths of Inuyasha's forest. That was where she had emerged into this mysterious world. So, that was probably how to return home. It made sense. Sometimes, the way forward was the way back.

Adamantly striding through the woods, Kagome ignored the fact that she hardly knew where she was headed. She also dismissed the sound of scuffling in the underbrush, nearby. It was probably a wild animal. Indeed, it was not until her heart leapt for joy in her chest at the sight of the old, abandoned dry-well in the forest that Kagome realized she might have made a grave mistake by leaving town alone.

As she stepped eagerly forward, toward the Bone Eater's Well, suddenly the rustling in the bushes grew louder, and there were _hands_ restraining her, covering her mouth and binding her arms. Needless to say, she tried to scream, but it did no good. On both sides, she saw dirty, scrawny, gangly young men, leering at her unpleasantly.

She struggled as much as possible, but to no avail. Soon, they dragged her to a run-down cottage on the outskirts of the village. Her captors pushed her down on the floor, grinding her face-first into the floorboards. With a muffled squeak, Kagome protested this rough treatment.

"Boss!" cried the first of the scrawny bandits. "We have captured her, as ordered!"

Another bandit leaned over Kagome's form, intimidating her more than she liked to admit. "E-heh! And she is wearing a weird, short kimono!" he noted delightedly, running sweaty hands up the back of her skirt.

Terror abruptly became anger. Shrieking like a banshee, the girl from the future rediscovered her strength. She pushed off the floor and stood, covering her bottom with her hands and forcing her school uniform to lay flat.

"What are you doing?" Kagome screamed in the man's face, abruptly unafraid of death. "Get your hands off me, you perverts!"

"Ah?!" cackled another bandit from farther back in the room. "As if you can complain, dressed like that. You want to marry me, little girl?"

Doubtless, these guys had a very different idea about what "_marriage_" meant, than she did. Slowly, she backed away from the group. And in the background, a larger man stood up, sluggishly unsheathing his sword.

"Give me…" mumbled the largest man, incoherently. "Give me the…"

In the dream, she was beginning to panic and flee. But when she opened her eyes, (un)surprisingly, she was in no danger. Instead, she was staring, wide-eyed, at the ceiling of her room, panting heavily, as though she was still in the process of running from a bunch of bad-guys in the past.

At her side, a warm bundle murmured and shifted, causing Kagome to flinch backward violently. In the end, though, it was only her mother lying there. The older woman rubbed one eye, in exhaustion, blinking up at Kagome from her bed.

Kagome's mother looked drawn and tired. Yet the lady bravely attempted to comfort her, regardless of the circumstances. Patting Kagome's hair lightly with one palm, Mrs. Higurashi reassured her. "It's a dream, sweetheart. Just a bad dream."

Meekly, the teenager nodded. "I know," she replied. "I can't remember it, anymore. It felt scary, that's all."

"Well," her mother continued calmly. "That is good, dear. Sometimes, it helps not to remember."

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Kagome had discovered that if she settled on the ground and lost focus in both her eyes, while she stared at the sky, then – for a moment, for an instant – she could understand how it felt to exist as a tree, without a care in the world.

Yes, truly. When she held very still, Kagome could feel the earth moving beneath her feet. It spun very slowly, dragging her inexorably downward, inward, and toward the center of existence. It spun very quickly, too, shadows racing past her fingertips much faster than expected.

In this way, she communed with the Goshinboku, under the heavens.

Kagome remembered a white-haired boy, pinned to the trunk of this very tree, with vines surrounding his body. For a moment in time, she had pitied him, wondering if the arrow through his heart meant that he had died a violent death. Still, though. He had looked so peaceful in death… almost like he was asleep.

Trees could be hurt by the world, even though they were not conscious of it. As could she. The Goshinboku was a perfect example of this, too! It had a scar on its trunk, right where a boy had once been trapped by an arrow.

The scars along her side and her leg were tight, but they were not infected and hot, anymore. Firmly, Kagome instructed herself that scars were not ugly. They brought character, that was all! Laying on the stone-tiles of the courtyard, she rested her hands on top of her scars, and then, she released all her worries and concerns, into thin air, with one deep breath.

A breeze fluttered through the leaves of the Goshinboku, as she did this. They were the same.


	4. Naraku

**Unscathed**

**Part .004 – Naraku**

She opened the door to her room… and realized, with horror, that it was _extremely_ messy! There were clothes all over the floor, and there were papers everywhere. Her textbooks sat open, haphazardly, etched across the surface of her desk.

Furiously, Kagome strode forward and started to tidy the disastrous mess. Bedrooms should be neat! And tidy! What on earth had she been doing in here?

In another few minutes, however, Kagome heard her mother's footsteps. "Oh good!" Mrs. Higurashi exclaimed, peeking into the chamber. "You've changed your clothing. Now we can go."

Blinking, in confusion, the dark-haired girl glanced down at her clothing. Her mother never lied, so she must have changed her outfit…

And indeed, it was true. The dress that she wore was very cute. It had yellow trim at the bottom of the hem. But she didn't remember owning it, or being this thin. Displeasure built behind her eyes into a headache.

"Where are we going?" she asked, curiously, rubbing her forehead in distraction.

"A neuro-psychologist," explained her mother, patiently. "Amazingly enough, he has agreed to take on your case for free! I hope you can talk with him. He will figure out the best plan of action, for…"

_A neuro-psychologist_? wondered Kagome, frowning and quickly tuning out her mother's words.

A psychologist was a doctor for the head. But she wasn't crazy. She was fine.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

"Actually, I hoped for your daughter to answer the question, Mrs. Higurashi," the strange voice intruded upon her awareness, "Not you."

The voice sounded dark and smooth, mellow with age and patience, yet still firm and unyielding in its demand. Odd, how someone so polite could also sound so rude, at the same time. Kagome glanced around, disturbed by the feeling that lurked inside her chest.

The room seemed small, cramped, and rather… _displeasing_. It was not completely white, like hospital rooms often appeared; instead, it had bland wallpaper and subdued red carpet. Yet for some reason, it made her uncomfortable to be here. Why was that?

Her mother sat to one side, clutching at the purse in her lap. In the corner of the room, there was a tiny desk, no wider than about 120 cm. Around the edge of the desk, a man rested complacently, his hands crossed in his lap while awaiting her reply. He wore a white coat over a black suit and tie, and his eye-color seemed almost red. Handsome, but chilling, Kagome decided.

Frowning slightly, she grasped at the collar of her dress. She should be wearing a necklace, shouldn't she? But the space beneath her hand remained empty.

"What was the question, again?" Kagome murmured, uneasily.

With an easy smile, the doctor informed her, "I requested to know the last thing that you can recall, before your accident."

The chill surrounding her settled deeper into her veins. She had been in an accident; that much was true. One day it had been her birthday. And then, she had fallen down an empty well, into the past. These crazy dreams had started – about the time-travel and demons and priestesses… Finally, it seemed like her memory began to fragment, into pieces. She could recall flashes of color and vehement voices; she could even see faces in her mind. But the first thing she could really _remember_ after all that was a nurse in a hospital room – and even that was only a frozen moment in time.

Obviously, hospital rooms must follow the accident, because people didn't visit doctors, unless it was necessary. Yet the timeline in her mind was missing. She could no longer tell if an event had happened sooner or later, then or now. She simply knew that certain events had occurred.

"It says, here, in the hospital report," continued the doctor quietly, when she did not answer, "That you spoke of 'traveling into the past' and meeting a hanyou named Inuyasha, who demanded something of you. Can you tell me more about that?"

Blushing, Kagome looked down at her hands. Part of her mind whispered frantically that exposing such crazy hallucinations to a doctor would be an incredibly bad idea. Falling down a well into an earlier era, such things did not happen to normal people. Perhaps he would think she was insane. Perhaps he already did. Hadn't the other doctors disapproved?

"N-no, that was just a dream," mumbled the dark-haired girl, nervously.

As if he could hear the thoughts inside her head, the man in the white coat reassured her. "Even if it seems impossible or unlikely, please let us know what you remember," he said. "Every memory is important, in its own way."

He acted very composed and understanding, although she still felt uneasy. So, Kagome watched her mother's face, while she explained. It was easier than watching a neuro-psychologist, whose name she did not know (although she had met him a few minutes ago).

"I dreamt I had this marble, or something, inside my body. And when it got ripped out, all the demons wanted it. So did Inuyasha. He was part-demon."

"And you still recall these things, clearly, even now?"

The blush that had suffused her cheeks began to deepen. "Yes," she admitted. "Everything seems reasonably clear until I decide to throw the Shikon no Tama out of the building, to get it away from the crow-demon… Things grow sort of fuzzy after that."

The man with the wavy, dark hair almost relaxed, when she said this, as though merely hearing the words had calmed him. Briefly, she wondered _which _words he liked. Writing off her discomfort, however, she listened to the rest of his speech.

"That _is_ interesting," the doctor responded. "Good news, though – people your age tend to recover from head trauma quickly. Considering the amount of hemorrhaging that occurred in your brain, you're already incredibly lucky. If you recover, it will probably require only two to three years, before you begin to notice some improvement…"

"What?" Kagome burst out, interrupting him. "That does not sound like 'quick' recovery!" And the rest of her burned, _burned_, because he attached an If-Clause to his statement. _If _ she recovered, it would take _years_.

For a moment, he did not reply. Then, he smiled blandly. "Well, consider the alternative. Some recovery is better than none."

Sometimes, Kagome decided, she did _not_ like other people's humor.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

"Airplane, omelet, giraffe," the man with the ruby eyes said. For the life of her, she could never remember his name. But she knew she had visited him, at least once.

"Airplane, omelet, giraffe," she repeated, grimly. That was what she was supposed to do. Remember three stupid words and repeat them back to a stupid doctor. First, he had tested her reflexes, and he had made her walk up and down the hallway to test her balance, and now they were playing word-games. How ridiculous.

Without a pause, he continued, "Now, subtract seven from one-hundred."

"Ninety-three."

"Again."

"Um… Eighty-six," Kagome muttered, furrowing her brow. Really, she was never good at math. "May I have a calculator for this? School girls deserve calculators."

"No," smirked the doctor, as though he was enjoying her torment. "It doesn't matter what answer you get. That is part of the test. Again."

"Seventy-nine?"

"Again."

"Seventy-two," she continued with a sigh. "And then, um… sixty-five. And then… um…"

Waving her off, gently, he asked her to return to the three words that he had originally spoken to her. And of course, this seemed easy! She had just heard them, only a few seconds ago. It was a simple test, and one she passed with flying colors.

A brief flare of excitement and self-approval flared in her chest. Hah! She had accomplished something! It made her feel good to know she could still perform certain tasks.

Suddenly, Kagome found herself wishing that all her school-exams were so simple.

Come to think of it, when _was_ the last time she had been to class, exactly?

The icy chill in the office, which she had briefly ignored, choked her once more, as Kagome realized that she could not remember middle-school. The last thing she remembered was falling asleep during algebra and drooling on the desk. What a horrible memory to hold as The Last Class.


	5. Friendship

Author's Note: Each chapter title reflects a basic dilemma, for Kagome. Chapter 1 – She was in a hospital but doesn't remember being sick. Chapter 2 – She doesn't remember the disappearance of the Shikon no Tama. Chapter 3 – The family is running out of money, but there is nothing she can do about it. Chapter 4 – Naraku is her neurologist … and well, that is freaky, all by itself.

Hopefully, figuring out the dilemma behind the chapter titles remains a fun part of the story, too!

**Unscathed**

**Part .005 – Friendship**

Eri, Yuka, and Ayumi chortled happily, where they sat in a circle on her bedroom floor. Ayumi stayed reasonably shy and reticent, but Eri and Yuka were loud and boisterous. At first, Kagome didn't know what to do with them.

In fact, she could not remember why they were sitting on the floor. After all, the family shrine had plenty of perfectly good chairs, in other rooms. And when, exactly, did her friends arrive?

Tamping down on her confusion, she smiled brightly, in response to one of her friends. It was growing easier, she noticed, to smile convincingly for absolutely no reason. It was becoming simpler to adjust to the unexpected. After all, every instant in time took place abruptly. This happened to normal people too, but they did not notice, because their minds told them a continual storyline of life. A healthy mind – like background music – an episodic buffer between disassociated moments.

"We're just so glad to see that you're _better_ now!" grinned Eri, the whites of her teeth showing.

"Better?" Kagome asked, helplessly. In what way, was she better? But no one noticed that her question was _sincere_.

"Absolutely," replied Yuka, picking up where her friend had halted, "In the hospital, you looked so drained and tired, and you were there for _so long!_ We are happy to have you back in the land of the living."

Nodding amicably, the blue-eyed girl smiled again. Determined not to appear stupid or forgetful in front of her companions, she persevered as though she knew what they were discussing. "Thank you for visiting me in the hospital."

"Of course!" Eri added, "What are friends for? Hey! Do you still have the CD that I brought you, as a 'get-well' gift? We can listen to it, together."

Uh-oh. Now, it would be obvious. The carpet felt as though it was slipping from beneath her feet, although Kagome knew it would not. Not really. That was just her impression of doom.

"CD?" she murmured hesitantly.

Cheerfully, the others agreed. At last, Kagome was forced to admit that she didn't actually remember being given a CD. In fact, she didn't recall them in the hospital.

Eri's face melted from happiness to puzzlement, then acceptance. "Well, that's okay," she added, rising to search the room, "I'm sure you have it around here, somewhere! Right?"

Kagome nodded, complacently. Frustrating, how she could not remember her hospital guests. Yet they assured her that they came to see her. So, they must have.

Even more frustrating – how she had lost faith in herself as a reliable source of knowledge.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

"Oh, thank you very much!" blustered Kagome, staring at the package in her hands. Of course, she had no idea what it was. The wooden piece was curved, with bumps on one side and a handle on the other end. Supposedly, it would inspire longevity and relaxation.

A silence fell over the living room, as she put the gift onto the staircase, to travel upstairs with her later. In the background, Hojo smiled blithely. "Anything that I can do to help is worth it."

Kagome took her seat again, rubbing her hands anxiously. She had no idea where her family was. Perhaps the others had gone out for the evening.

"I told this to your grandfather too, when I saw you in the hospital," continued the brown haired young man. "I promised that I would remain faithful, even if you didn't recover."

Unease began to bloom in her chest, once more. This was too strange. Hojo was a friend from middle-school, but not a _close_ one. She barely knew him. Unless they started dating recently, then she did not know why the boy might need to remain _faithful_.

"But your grandfather said," Hojo laughed, "That he wouldn't hold me to it! Haha!"

Because her companion was happy, Kagome laughed too – her sociable nature winning over unease. Still, the comment wasn't very funny. "Thank you," she smiled, "For visiting me in the hospital."

"No, no!" protested Hojo. "Please don't thank me _again_! It is not necessary."

Kagome pondered whether she could scribble a note, reminding herself not to 'thank' Hojo anymore. Alas, no. It would seem rude, if he watched this, and by the time he left, she would no longer remember to write the note at all.

"… frightened to drive!" her companion was saying, as Kagome concentrated on him once more. "I am not certain that I want to test for my driver's license, now."

"Drive?" she inquired politely.

"Yes," Hojo explained. "Car accidents are terrifying. But it would be even worse to hit someone! Imagine how that poor driver must have felt, knowing that he hit you!"

Baffled, Kagome fell silent. Soon, however, she rationalized that her mother and her grandfather must have decided upon this as a cover story. Rather than telling the rest of the world that she had fallen down an empty well into the past, they pretended that she had been hit by a vehicle. No wonder her stories about traveling through time seemed so outlandish to the doctors!

She _did_ fall through time, didn't she?

To be honest, she couldn't remember how she had been injured. There was a void within her mind, shortly after being kidnapped by bandits in the forest. But she recalled traveling toward the Bone Eater's Well. The brain-damage must be from hitting her head on the side of it, as she jumped into the well for a second time.

What did her mother and her grandfather actually _believe_? Car-accident or time-travel?

Self-doubt began to creep up Kagome's spine.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Slightly more complex tests awaited her at the neurologist's office, since she passed the previous ones. Today, they were telling stories and drawing pictures, together. It felt like she regressed to preschool, but the activities were somewhat entertaining. After all, when was the last time that she had _fun_ at a doctor's office?

Story-telling had come first. The dark-haired man had told her a tale about people doing various household tasks, for various reasons. Then, he had asked her to repeat the story, word-for-word. This had not been possible, for Kagome never memorized what she heard, but she thought she had done reasonably well, recalling the plot.

Now, it was picture-time. The neurologist gave her paper and asked her to copy a complex, geometrical design. As she drew, Kagome noticed, his ruby-colored eyes tracked her progress, noting which lines she copied, in which order.

"Tada!" she announced, putting the pencil down and flopping back into her chair. Seriously, if the tasks that she needed to accomplish were so simple, then maybe she would recover faster than he expected! She was improving by leaps and bounds.

Stopping the timer on his desk, the neurologist gathered her artwork and added it to a file-folder. Kagome observed him, waiting eagerly for some sign of approval. She had done well, hadn't she? Perhaps not.

"Does it matter how fast I draw?"

"Not at all," he replied. "Nor does it matter how closely the drawing resembles the original, as long as all the lines are present."

"Oh," mumbled Kagome. "Okay."

"Now," he instructed her, "Tell me the story, again."

Panic immediately enveloped her. "You didn't mention that I had to remember the story _forever,_" she protested vehemently.

Unfortunately, this appeal seemed to land on deaf ears. Her mother had dropped her off at this office, then left the room, so as far as Kagome knew, she had to do whatever the neurologist told her. All of this constituted some kind of treatment, or something… Right?

And she did want to recover! She could tell that she had _changed_ – that she was not the girl she once had been. Fine, then. She would repeat the stupid story. She would!

Ire brought her determination to succeed, but telling the tale required more than tenacity. It required knowledge. "Word for word, again?" the blue-eyed girl asked, shifting uneasily in her seat.

There was no way she could do this. The story had been hard to remember _the first time_. And that had been a few seconds after hearing it!

He nodded. Kagome closed her eyes, blocking out the drab, calming office with red carpet. "Um… There was a man in a house," she murmured, "Watching TV. And he decided to go out for the evening… No, wait he lived in an apartment! Not a house."

"Try to stay as close to the wording of the original as you can."

Frustration swamped her. She began to invent a storyline. "He went out for the evening, for dinner, and he took an… umbrella. No, he took a coat. Because…"

After sitting quietly, for a few more minutes, she surrendered. It had been almost thirty minutes since she heard this story. She did not recall it.

The test did not seem fair. As short and simple as the story was, she decided, anyone should be able to recall it. But she could not, because her brain was missing, somehow. Disappointed for no reason at all, she scuffed her shoe on the carpet.

"I have short-term memory problems," she stated, "People without short-term memory can't remember new things. It's like the movie Fifty First Dates, or Memento."

This prompted a soft exhale of laughter, under his breath. "Technically, it tests how well information is stored and retrieved from _long_-term memory," the neurologist answered. "Keep trying. Do you feel that you might remember more, but not the exact words?"

"No," she sighed. "No. It's totally gone. I'm sorry. I fail."

"Hn," replied the doctor easily, "Why feel sorry? There are no grades, here."

With a small smile, Kagome scooted her chair closer to the desk. Even though she could not recollect his name, at least the neurologist didn't _expect_ anything of her. Unlike her friends, there existed at least _one _ person in the world around whom she did not have to pretend.

He knew she was sick. He made no promises. _If _she recovered, he said, it would take _years_. Suddenly, the prediction seemed honest and beneficial, instead of depressing.

What would it be like to call her doctor a friend? Even though she could never remember his name or his history, maybe she could befriend him. Maybe he would be more understanding than Eri, Yuka or Ayumi – and definitely better than Hojo!


	6. Confessions

Author's Note: **Missy Misa** asked whether Naraku was evil or "bad turned good" in this story. The answer is – both and neither. In my mind, Naraku was never evil (completely); he was selfish. He shall continue to be completely self-interested in this story, as well. But that doesn't mean he hates Kagome. It just means that he doesn't care, and manipulating her will be easy because she has brain-damage. So… Maybe that is evil?

**Unscathed**

**Part .006 – Confessions**

Soon, the visits to the neuro-psychologist became the highlight of Kagome's day. After all, she had no schoolwork, and her friends were nearly always busy. They had classes, homework, and extra-curricular activities. Kagome had scars and dementia. No comparison needed, really.

Furthermore, she had successfully "learned" his name, after only four sessions! That was something to be proud of, surely. The doctor said she should call him Naraku. Naraku! Hah! She did not believe that was his real name, though. What kind of mother named a baby after the underworld?

They did many more diagnostic tests. She listed numbers to him, testing how many digits she could store in her mind at once. She recited words, testing how much verbal information she could store in her short-term memory, and after he suggested that she group the objects by type, the task became much easier. She completed mazes, without repeating any pathways or turns, never picking her pen up off the sheet of paper. That one was actually quite fun! Although she found it difficult, she was able to plan ahead enough to complete the maze without making mistakes or doubling back on the path she had drawn. They even played a version of the Twenty Questions game, where she had to determine which item he chose from a page full of objects, by asking the minimum number of 'Yes' or 'No' questions.

What the neurologist might learn from all of these activities, Kagome had no idea. But she proudly hoped that she had proven that she was not broken. Inside her mind, she didn't _feel _broken. Just different. And besides, playing one-on-one games with a physician was more amusing than taking a math test, in school.

Today's test was aggravating, however. She had to sit in front of a computer and hit the spacebar, if she saw the letter "X" appear on screen. It was an incredibly simple task, but she felt her attention wander, constantly. Perhaps that was because the test was too easy.

The fifth time that she noticed her attention drifting off toward other items on the desk, Kagome nearly felt ready to scream. This activity was boring. And trivial. And stupid. Of course, she would rather be looking at other things. Like the plant in the corner of the room. It was green. Or the book on the desktop. It was brown. Far more interesting than waiting for the letter "X" to appear on a computer monitor.

Perhaps this was part of the test? Determined to finish her task, Kagome forced herself to pay attention, once more. Only to realize that she had forgotten what she was supposed to do. Oh, yes! Push the spacebar whenever she saw the letter X, but not if she saw any other symbol.

Gah! Even the instructions of the test were too simple to remember. Soon, she realized that she was looking at the patterns on the wallpaper, instead of the monitor.

Irritation blossomed inside of her. She could do this! She could! All she had to do was _pay attention_!

It was like her mother used to tell her, as a child. "Pay attention, dear," Mrs. Higurashi would say. Kagome had not fully understood what it meant, when she was younger, but she had quickly learned that her mother intended for her to watch and listen. Watch and listen. Pay attention. It was easy, and she was going to do it. Starting right now.

But she couldn't focus. By the time the activity ended, she felt like crying or breaking something. One of the two. Storming to the door of the room, she reached to open it. Then, she relented and sat down again.

It was all right, she told herself firmly. She had learned something about herself. That was the purpose of these activities, to teach her about the brain and to recover her ability to think like a rational person. Right?

After a minute or two, Naraku returned. Earlier, his presence had distracted her, while she struggled with the computer – Kagome had turned to him, checking whether she was performing the test properly. So, he had exited the room.

Besides, she thought bitterly, it probably bored him to watch inane, simple tasks. In fact, his entire job must be monotonous and uninteresting. Testing crazy people, who failed to perform, over and over again? It must be the most horrible job in the world.

The chill in the office seemed to increase, as she pondered negative thoughts. It wasn't cold, exactly, yet visiting the neurologist always made her restless and over-excited. It felt like there was an important goal that she needed to remember to accomplish – one that had nothing to do with her head-injury.

Normally, however, she was able to ignore this feeling in favor of focusing on simple diagnostic tasks. Actually _succeeding_ at something made her feel happy, thus, she tried very hard to do precisely what she was told. She imagined that appointments with a doctor were healing her.

Maybe so. Maybe not.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

"So, isn't there medication or something?" insisted the dark-haired girl. "Medicine has improved since the feudal era, you know. There are pills to fix problems like this."

Calmly, red-eyes met her gaze. "Your mother has the prescription."

This made Kagome feel even more frustrated. She already had a prescription, which she didn't recall. Magic-brain pills were obviously not helping, because she was still stupid and forgetful.

"What kind of pills?" she asked, tentatively, glancing away from her opponent.

"The same kind of medication that those with Alzheimer's Disease often receive."

Blue-eyes widened, as she shrank back into the chair. Wait, wait, wait! Alzheimer's Disease was dementia for the old, the elderly. She was young. Moreover, didn't Alzheimer's create… forgetfulness that was much more _serious_ than… than what she suffered?

But then, she did have similar symptoms.

"That raises another important issue, though," continued Naraku, "You mentioned the feudal era. Why don't you tell me about it? What do you remember, after falling into the dry-well?"

Uneasily, the dark-haired girl squirmed in the seat. Once again, the desk was not between them. The doctor was being friendly, by sitting next to her, instead of across from her. But the room seemed too small, too compact, and cold – almost wintry. No, not cold… just treacherous. It was a feeling that lurked in her gut. A lack of trust that emerged whenever someone asked her to discuss the incident at the Bone Eater's Well.

As she attempted to look anywhere but in his direction, he prodded her gently. "No one else is here, and no one is judging your response." Then, he smiled grimly, "Except me, of course."

Forcing down the nervousness, she told him. She remembered falling down a well, into the past. A centipede-demon attacked her, ripping a stone from her side. Then, it crushed her, and a white-haired boy saved her, before he tried to kill her too. She remembered the legend of the Shikon no Tama. She remembered villagers bowing to her, praying for her blessing, because she was a reincarnation.

Come to think of it, this story did sound completely insane. Only a girl with a bizarre imagination would invent such mythical scenes and then believe them to be real. Faltering, she trailed to a halt.

"A reincarnation?" he asked, lightly. Or perhaps he answered, since it did not sound like a question. "How very curious. I couldn't tell."

She didn't like his smile, Kagome decided. The larger it became, the more the chill in the room increased. The feeling was exactly like… It was like being around Mistress Centipede! Yes, that was it. As if he was a demon, a youkai, in pursuit of something that she carried.

But that was silly, too. Naraku was only trying to help. So far, he had been a brilliant doctor – as a neuro-psychologist, he was persistent and patient beyond description.

"Tell me more?" he requested. Pushing the mystery to the back of her mind, she complied.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Kagome heard the rain outside her window. It was dark and cold, hail striking the glass in uneven bursts, along with the wind. She slept, off and on, between bouts of anxiety and sorrow.

After her accident, she had remained as happy as possible. It was easy to remain optimistic, because Kagome naturally searched for the best in life. Every scenario was interpreted in a positive fashion; every person that she encountered was reassured by her smile. For the most part, she pacified situations, instead of stirring up disputes. Making other people happy was a cherished goal.

As a result, she had not noticed it, until now. (Or perhaps she had, and she didn't recall it?) She felt sad. If only she had appreciated the fact that she was _normal_ before she became _abnormal_. If only she had been more careful, as she stood next to the Bone Eater's Well that morning. Because no matter how firmly she told herself that everything would be fine, life would never be the same.

She didn't know how much time had passed, since her birthday. She didn't know whether she had been to school, since then, or not. She didn't know whether she had enjoyed Christmas, or what gifts she had given, if any. She didn't know what she needed to do, half the time, when she walked into a room. She only remembered what day of the week it was, by looking at a calendar every morning, when she woke up. She carried the calendar with her, crossing off days or household tasks, whenever they were finished.

And none of this mattered, the dilemma was salvageable, it was okay, as long as she didn't look forward into the future. Honestly, she felt she was coping quite well with tragedy. She could cope with forgetfulness, by taking detailed notes. She could review her notes, whenever she needed to remember where she was, or what she was doing. Activities took longer, but life was tolerable. Until she anticipated the future…

She would never watch a movie again and enjoy it, because halfway through the film, she would no longer remember its premise. She would never hold a steady, high-paying job, because even after extensive training, she would have only a middle-school education. She would never know the storyline behind her child's first steps, the first day of school, or the first kiss.

And she could never share these concerns with other people – because if she tried, they would either reassure her with empty promises, or they would collapse with grief alongside her. Either way, words of encouragement and sympathy meant nothing. She would not remember them. The only one who could solve this was her neurologist.

He could fix this, couldn't he?


	7. Dark Star

Author's Note: The first chapter to explain where my fanfiction veers off from the series! Hm… Episode 2 of the anime. That's pretty early…

**Unscathed**

**Part .007 – Dark Star**

As the credits rolled, Kagome decided that she was enjoying the music. It sounded Indian, with _tabla_ and _dhol_ drums resounding in a fast-paced rhythm. She wiggled happily, watching black and white text travel across the giant screen.

Lights rose in the theater, and she felt someone take her hand. Looking down, she realized that she did not recognize the hand that clasped her own, and Kagome immediately yanked her palm away in a panic. Standing up, she glared at her companion.

Hojo stared back, abashed. "Oh, I'm sorry," he said, sheepishly. "I thought… Nevermind."

Now, it was Kagome's turn to feel ashamed. The poor kid had probably waited throughout the entire film, only to try to touch her hand. It was sappy, romantic, and cute – and she had utterly ruined his plan, because she had entirely forgotten about his presence.

"Did you enjoy the movie?" he mumbled, as he stood. Carefully avoiding her gaze, Hojo brushed imaginary lint off his clothing.

With a smile and a lie, she replied affirmatively. "Of course," answered Kagome, "Thank you for inviting me! Sorry about that, earlier. It makes me uncomfortable when people touch me."

Actually, she could not remember the plot of the film. Still, lying became easier, with time. It was as though she stood under the influence of a dark star that slowly was training her how to mislead other people, skillfully and smoothly.

Then, horror overcame her. Why was she on a _date_ with Hojo?! He had better not try to kiss her, when he brought her home!

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

"So, what games are we playing today?" crowed Kagome, feeling quite cheerful. It was springtime, which meant beautiful cherry blossoms and a flood of visitors at the shrine. Thus, her good mood carried over into her appointment.

"Well, if you insist." Naraku seemed amused, although part of her heart warned that he did not see the same humor in the situation that she did. She ignored the internal warning.

Brushing the wavy hair off his forehead, so that he could bend forward without dark, inky strands falling into his eyes, the man withdrew a wooden case from a filing cabinet at the side of the room. Then, he returned to the desk, laying out the requested activity.

It looked like a puzzle-game. Kagome felt excitement bubble up inside of her. There were two pieces of wood, each with three rods coming off the surface. Each rod was a different length. Next, there were three beads for each player – red, green, and blue.

"It's called the 'Tower of London' test," he informed her, apparently entertained by her eagerness to complete more diagnostic tasks. "Designed to investigate the ability to plan ahead, in patients with damage to the frontal lobes."

"I have damage to the front of my brain?" she asked.

"Among other places, yes," he answered. "No one else has talked with you about this?"

"Nope." Chuckling madly, Kagome continued, "Or… Maybe they did, but I don't remember it!"

Somehow, her boisterous mirth was not contagious. The doctor seemed almost pensive today.

"Later, I will explain it, in a way that you can remember," he added, before explaining the rules of their current game. "You have to use the minimum number of moves to make the pattern on your board, match the pattern on mine. But you may only move one bead at a time, and you must leave the beads on one of the rods, not the table. Do you understand?"

"Only move one colored bead, per move. Place the beads onto the rods, before letting go. Match the pattern on your side of the desk. Got it!"

Today, for certain, she was going to triumph over… well… something! She would do such a flawless and fantastic a job on this test that everyone would _know_ she had recovered. Rubbing her hands together, she watched the pattern that he formed on the opposite wooden board, then copied it, slowly and methodically with her beads.

Overall, she believed that she performed this task very well. Compared to someone without brain-damage, however, she did not.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

All around her, she could feel the men cowering in terror. While wildly swinging a sword, trying to hurt Kagome, their leader had accidentally killed two of the bandits. Now, they stood behind her, carefully ensuring that she would die first if such a mishap happened again.

They would not be able to reach the door, in time. The massive leader of these goons had blocked the only exit, by cutting down support beams in the ceiling. "Give me the Shikon no Tama!" groaned the headman.

Devoutly refusing to surrender, Kagome fingered the pinkish-purple orb at her throat. Then, removing the necklace, she threw the Shikon no Tama through a small crack in the doorway. As the ball flew through the sky, she watched the eyes of the boss of the bandits, and she realized that he could not even _see_. His eyes did not track the flight of the Jewel, his head never even turned.

At least he was distracted, though. "Break down one of the walls," shouted Kagome, pointing her finger at the corner of the hut. Surprisingly, the others listened.

As the others attacked the plaster walls of the hut, their dilemma rapidly worsened. In order to go outside, the headman of the bandits stumbled toward them. One last time, he swung his sword haphazardly toward her – only to face defeat at the final moment because of …Inuyasha!

After the hanyou was rude to her, earlier, she had been so annoyed by his behavior that she had stomped away into the forest. But now, he was doing daring things like rescuing her, from the jaws of death! It was terribly romantic! Like having a white knight or her own personal saviour…

"Did you come here to rescue me?" she asked breathlessly, as she stepped forward.

With a growl, the white-haired half-demon stared at her. "Is it safe?" he snapped in return, "The Shikon no Tama?"

Nervous laughter escaped her, as she backed away slowly. Actually, no. The Shikon no Tama wasn't _safe_, per se – it rested where she had thrown it to evade the bad guy.

But she didn't have to tell Inuyasha that, did she? Aww, shucks. Yes, she did.

"Er… no," she blushed as she spoke, "Actually I threw it out front, right through there…" Signaling the direction of the Shikon no Tama with her finger, she hoped this would encourage Inuyasha to finish this fight even more quickly. If the fate of the Jewel of Four Souls rested on the outcome of this battle, then her hero would help to save her, right?

"What?!" sputtered Inuyasha frantically. "You… you… Threw it AWAY?"

And then, he dove outdoors, following the trajectory of the orb, which she had indicated with the pointer finger on her hand. Kagome shrieked in terror. He left her in the building with a massive bandit leader who was trying to assassinate her!

Soon, she found herself scrambling through the hole in the crumbled wall, as well. There was no way that she wanted to hide indoors and face that mad-man, alone. She had been flattered by Inuyasha's protectiveness, until he revealed he was after the Shikon no Tama – just like all the rest of the demons.

When she emerged from the hut, she saw Inuyasha holding the pinkish-purple orb between his claws and examining it for any damage. It glowed in his grasp, like a dark flame, like a distant sun. Her heart clenched with fear.

From behind, she heard the caw of a crow, and the headman's body collapsed onto the floor. Before her, the half-demon boy whirled to face her, infuriated. "How dare you?" he shouted. "You can't just toss it on the ground!"

"Osuwari!" she countered, quickly activating the subjugation beads around his neck. After all, she couldn't allow him to wish on the Jewel. Kaede said that would be terrible.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

"So, what do you do with your time?"

The question confused her, coming out of nowhere, as it did. Without context, conversations often made no sense. Kagome glanced across the table, and she realized that Hojo was sitting in their kitchen, while her mother prepared dinner in the background.

Wow! Really? Hojo must have entered the shrine under her mother's approval. And he was staying for dinner. Didn't dinner with the family imply a close relationship? Perhaps she _was_ dating him.

"Do with my time?" she paraphrased his question, hoping that he would continue, thereby explaining what he meant. Also, she needed a moment to wrap her head around the idea that Hojo was visiting their _home_ for _dinner_.

"You have more free time now, because you aren't in school," he smiled nervously, "I simply wondered what you did for fun? Maybe we can do an activity that you enjoy more than a movie!"

Guilt lanced through her chest. She had been to the movies with him? If so, then Kagome did not recall it. She must not be a very good girlfriend. Were they dating? Had they kissed?

"Oh, well…" murmured Kagome, examining the surface of the table. "I guess… Well, I suppose that I enjoy the same things that I used to, really."

At the stove, her mother slammed the spatula against the side of the pan, harshly. Yet her face remained passive and blank. A network of tiny wrinkles crowded around her eyes, which Kagome had never noticed before today.

"Like what?" inquired her companion, happily now. "We should do whatever you enjoy the most!"

Next, the frustration and anger began. What on earth did Hojo want her to say? Simply because she had more "free time" did not mean that she did extra-curricular activities, all day long. She wasn't staying home because it was _fun_.

Desperately, Kagome tried to recall something that she had done, recently. A puzzle perhaps? A video game? Souta certainly loved those. Maybe she read a book… Hmm. No, probably not. She wouldn't be able to remember the plotline.

"I don't know," she answered, blue-eyes misting over slightly. She smiled and hoped it did not seem too obvious. She did not want to seem crippled. She wasn't. She would be fine. Any day now.

Ironically, it was her mother who stopped the conversation. Mrs. Higurashi stepped between the two adolescents, laying down plates. Kagome noticed there was no plate for Hojo. Hmm. Maybe they weren't dating, after all.

"Don't pressure her," Mrs. Higurashi stated, forcefully. The utter calm in her voice sounded icy and threatening, as if her composure might become a weapon. Hojo's face fell, and he nodded his head.


	8. Wishes

**Unscathed**

**Part .008 – Wishes **

"Does it make you unhappy?" he urged her to speak, "All of this time, you have not said a single word to me about how this makes you feel."

"Oh, I'm…" The words 'okay' and 'fine' lingered at the back of her tongue, battling each other over which one should emerge first. But in the end, neither one was victorious.

Talking about her feelings to someone else, this idea still bothered her. It seemed unsuitable to discuss her private thoughts or emotions with a stranger. But little by little, Kagome had started to trust the person with soft, dark curls and dusky red eyes sitting beside her.

_After all_, the cynic inside her mind whispered bitterly, _everyone you meet for the rest of your life will be a stranger. And he doesn't expect anything of you_.

"Well, I talk to my mother," she admitted finally. "Only I can't tell her everything, because I don't want to upset her."

Silence filled the room, and her gaze skittered toward the door. Then, she shifted in her seat, putting one arm across the edge of the tiny desk. The monitor of his computer was visible to both of them, but it remained frustratingly blank. No diversions there.

Finally, the moment became too protracted, the silence intolerably long. Kagome returned to him, looking into his eyes once more. "No, I'm not sad," she explained. "Not when I should be."

"When you should be?"

"Well, sure!" exclaimed Kagome, "Everyone keeps trying to comfort me – 'It's okay Kagome, we love you anyway' – but I don't remember being hurt. When something terrible happens, you are supposed to feel upset. But I don't. Only trivial things upset me."

"Trivial?" he asked. Kagome despised him momentarily, for being a psychologist, not just a neurologist. Only a head-doctor would smoothly answer people with questions.

"Yea, trivial things," pouted the girl, who might-have-fallen-into-the-past but also might-not-have. "Like earlier today, a boy walked past me on the street, and he pushed me. It was an accident, I know. But I thought – 'I should push him too! Then, he'll know how it feels!'… Then, I realized, you can't push someone in front of a car, just for brushing against your sleeve. That's not allowed."

The smile was back, larger than usual this time. Kagome fought off a shiver. "We can't have what we wish for," Naraku replied agreeably. "Yes, that much is true."

"I didn't wish for it," she protested weakly. "I wasn't _really_ going to push him into the road."

"A change in the emotional state is normal," he shook his head curtly, as though suppressing one of his own memories. "It's similar to many stroke victims."

Despite his reassurance, the words lingered in the air.

Sometimes, wishes didn't work. Sometimes, wishes went wrong. The knowledge was deeply ingrained, in the marrow of her bones, in the darkness of her heart. Why was that?

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Inuyasha collapsed to the ground, the Shikon no Tama tightly held in his grasp, sheltered beneath his form as he met the earth. He shouted angrily as he fell, and his voice was almost enough to block out the screech from behind her head. Almost.

At the last second, Kagome whipped her head to the right and pivoted on her heel. A rasping, impatient squawk alerted her to the danger she faced, but she did not move quickly enough to avoid harm. Talons pierced her side.

A black, feathery creature was attacking her! It looked like a crow with three red eyes and a tail. Gripping the bird-like thing, the priestess cried out in fear and ripped the creature away from her chest, tossing it across the clearing as hard as she could.

Naturally, since it could fly, the demon quickly returned. Blood began to seep through her uniform, staining the white sections red, and the green sections dark-brown. The pain caused adrenaline to spike through her system, and time seemed to slow as her mind focused on this new threat.

Quickly Kagome thrust her hands into the air to block the crow. Palms outward, she wished that a burst of purple light and magic would appear to save her, just like the time she blasted Mistress Centipede. But nothing happened.

So, she dodged at the last second, instead. Throwing herself into a patch of muddy grass, she groaned as the impact jarred her injury. "Inuyasha!" she shrieked, "Help me!"

"I'm tryin' wench," came his muffled reply, and she understood that the power of the subjugation beads had not worn off yet. "Dammit!"

It was just a three-eyed crow. Honestly, that was all. This enemy was nothing like the centipede-demon that attacked her a few days ago! Rising from the grass, Kagome resolved to handle this predicament rather than flee in terror. She ran away too often.

Yet without a weapon, she remained at a distinct disadvantage. The crow-demon circled them rapidly, then dove toward her again. It seemed to be paying attention to Inuyasha, however, making sure that the hanyou was still immobile on the ground.

Kagome tried to grab its tail, but the whip-like cord snapped out of her reach, and she was left with talons in her face. Swirling to the side, she evaded the bird's claws but squealed in surprise. Any closer, and the talons might have skewered one of her eyes!

Hearing her shriek for the second time in less than ten seconds, Inuyasha growled. The spell that held him face-down against the dirt was wearing off, but not fast enough. He could smell the blood of the priestess in the air, and she had asked him for assistance.

Furthermore, the solution to all of their problems lay within his grasp. This was the goal he sought all along. The Shikon no Tama. Never before had it been so close, or the need for it so great. Unlike Kikyou, this girl had _asked_ for his help.

Fine. Perhaps his desire was motivated by self-interest, as well. He always intended to become a youkai, before Kikyou talked him out of it. Thus, when the opportunity arose to perform a good deed and satisfy a selfish desire, at the same time, Inuyasha took it.

"I wish…"

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

The bland, red carpet seemed more pleasant today than usual. Kagome scanned it with interest, noting that she wore a pair of slip-on sandals in which she usually painted her toenails. It was funny, actually. She didn't _like_ this pair of shoes. That was why she never wore them outdoors, choosing to do trivial, messy activities in them instead, like applying nail polish. Or at least, she _used to_ avoid wearing them outside. Now, it seemed, she often forgot her personal preferences, because the shoes were there on her feet, and she was not at home.

"Even if the information is wrong, simply tell me what you remember," requested Naraku, annoyance coloring his tone. It sounded like he had asked her something, already, once. Multiple times, perhaps.

"Hmm?" murmured Kagome, glancing up at her doctor. "What was the question again?"

With a nearly inaudible sigh, he ran one palm across the notepad in his lap, smoothing it out despite the fact that it already lay perfectly flat.

They were sitting closer together, she realized. The chair for the neuro-psychologist remained in approximately the same place, every time she visited him. Gradually, however, her seat had been inching toward his. Today, the ugly looking sandals on her feet were only a few inches away from his nice looking loafers.

She frowned, wondering if _she_ had been scooting the chair in his direction. If so, then he would have to replicate this set-up, each time she entered the office. And that was … just freaky. No one had a perfect visual memory like that, did they? Did he have a measuring tape solely for this purpose?

"You can't giggle your way out of this," The comment was not intended to sound offensive or cruel, but it caught her attention, because it was true. Laughter came easily to her, even when it was inappropriate. It had always been so. "I've noticed you have this tendency," Naraku continued, "But while good humor may make other people relate to you well, it cannot carry you through life."

As if he had predicted the future with infallible, inhuman accuracy, a nervous grin spread across her lips and a tiny laugh attempted to bubble out of her throat. "I know," she replied, firmly swallowing it back down, "I mean, yes, of course. What was the question again, please?"

Perhaps she was supposed to tell him about the dream that she had. The one with the crow-demon attacking her. Surely, she should tell a doctor about any new memories that she recovered. Instead though, Kagome stayed mute.

"Describe the injury to your brain," he said calmly, "I am curious as to what you remember concerning what I told you last time."

What he told her, last time? To be honest, Kagome had no clue – because she could not remember chronology any longer. Events either happened, or they did not, but there was never any before or after. Thus, it was the most difficult question that he could possibly ask. "Last time" – these words had no meaning anymore.

Speaking of injury to her brain, however, that sparked a memory! An image formed before her, and then she was watching him, while he drew on a sheet of paper. There were shades of gray in a lopsided circle, and threads running from side to side in the picture.

"You said that I suffered three types of brain-damage?" she mused, feeling incredibly, unjustifiably nervous. Grey and black markings covered three parts of the picture in her memory, so it seemed like a reasonable estimation to base her answer on this. But the doctor showed no sign of hearing her, and Kagome was forced to continue alone. "There was lots of bruising in the front, where my brain hit the skull, and there was tearing too, farther down in the front, because of the eye-sockets. They are jagged bone protruding into my head, so that cut my brain too. And… there were… fibers that broke."

He smirked, and she felt happiness seeping through her, once more. Not laughter, though. No. She had to stop the nervous giggling for no reason – it didn't make people like her more. Well, not _this_ person, at least.

"Do you remember what these fibers are called?"

And she did. Somehow, words floated to the top of her mind, waiting to be pronounced. "Diffuse Axonal Injury," Kagome announced, proudly, attaching a capital letter to each of the terms because she _remembered_ them. She did!

"Ah… the injury, instead of where you suffered it," he remarked, pleasantly. "Close enough, I suppose. A blow to the head shook the brain enough that it sheared the neurons in the corpus callosum."

"Oh!" chirped Kagome, recalling the proper noun, when he said it. "Right! And it connects the two halves of the brain. What does 'sheared' mean?"

The humor that had been leaking into his tone vanished, utterly. "Broken. Severed."

"Oh, okay." There was that word again. Broken. She still didn't like it.

"And do you know why you remember these things?" came the next question, relentlessly.

Kagome pondered this for a moment, the images in her mind reminding her that all hope was not lost. It had been easier to think about a vision, than about a storyline or a conversation. That did not mean that she could not reason… it meant that she reasoned _differently_ now… Not broken. Not broken. Not broken.

"Because you drew me a picture," she offered, hopefully, finally comprehending that she might have learned a new technique for storing information in her memory.

Watching the dawn of realization break over her face, he agreed silently.


	9. Absence

Author's Note: Several people have asked why Naraku is "helping" Kagome. This is because (1) he doesn't hate her quite so much, since she never really traveled with Inuyasha, and (2) because he needs her to HEAL and TRUST him, so she can tell him where the Shikon no Tama is!

**Unscathed**

**Part .009 – Absence**

Envisioning images in her mind helped a great deal. The technique was easy, too. Kagome began to associate thoughts with objects. If she laid pencils on the desk at home in one pattern, it meant one thing. Another pattern, it meant something else. It was her own private code.

Not only did she associate thoughts with objects, she also began to connect ideas with feelings. Emotions tied themselves to memories, too. For instance, her early childhood recollections were tied to surprise, pain, or joy. Once, when Kagome was extremely naughty, her mother had smashed a wooden toy-bus to death in front of her. Once, when Kagome crawled beneath the ironing board unattended, the iron had fallen on her back. Once, when Kagome woke up, her mother had been there, humming a song. As people aged, they began to tie stories together out of the events in their life. After a while, the story remained but the feelings behind it were forgotten. Yet the emotions were still there, pervading every second of every day! Thus, Kagome decided to return to ground-zero and affix her memories to emotions.

The hardest test to pass would be reading a book. Interpreting the written word was incredibly difficult now, for Kagome's memory was too short to contain a plotline. She could converse with other people and luxuriate in the time she spent with them. But she would not be able to enjoy the entirety of a book or a movie, because that took _hours_. With a film, she could still comprehend short scenes. But a book? That would be a true experiment.

So, she tested the new technique, while she read about the human memory. Ironic, yes. But "The Memory Workbook: Breakthrough Techniques" had somehow found its way into her room, and Kagome viewed it as a project. Guessing that the doctor or her mother must have purchased this volume for her, she slowly and methodically practiced _thinking_.

And her newest approach worked! She could not remember the book, alone. Yet she drew pictures of everything inside of it, and she retained these. Tying information to the images was not as hard as she expected.

The authors intended their text to be used by the elderly. She knew this because there was a stick-figure with a cane on the first page of her notes. The short-term memory could hold about seven bits of information, but _more_ if the person chunked these bits together by type or by process. She recalled this fact because of the brownie bites that she had arranged on her desk. Next, the working memory had different ways to process the sensory information it received – a visual-spatial sketchpad and a phonological loop, handling verbal and chronological information. She remembered these automatic processes because she drew sketchpad, cassette tape, and wrist-watch pictures with lines attached to them, leading into a short-term memory box.

When she finished a few chapters, she closed the book reverently. Wide-eyed with awe, she bounded down the stairs, eager to share the news with her mother. After all, Mrs. Higurashi had been there for the worst part. Before anyone else, she deserved to know that progress was possible.

The shrine was strangely quiet today. It had been for hours, Kagome realized. Of course, the tranquility had not bothered her, while she read upstairs. Only now, the stillness took her by surprise.

As she walked into the living room, everything was fine. The plant was missing from the corner, but Kagome never cared much about the greenery. It was not until she walked into the kitchen that the blue-eyed girl noticed something terrible was afoot.

The kitchen had been dismantled. To one side of the room, the table rested against a wall. Seat cushions had been stacked beside it. Cardboard boxes filled the rest of the area, with glasses, plates, pots, pans, and other utensils tucked away inside them.

What on earth happened in here? Frowning, Kagome called out for her mother, for Souta, for anyone really. But there was no reply.

As she moved through the rest of the house, the confusion only worsened. All the coats were missing from the coat closet. The cabinets were totally bare. Souta's room had no more toys. Her mother's room was completely empty.

Since there was only one explanation that Kagome could come up with, she recognized the truth right away. They were moving. The family shrine was up for sale.

And this too was her fault. She could recall the memory, because of the tension knotted inside of it. One afternoon, she had gone out to sweep the shrine steps, and when she returned, her grandfather had insisted upon keeping their home, despite the bills they needed to pay. The hospital… bill…

How long had she been in the hospital to create a debt so large that it swallowed their family shrine?

Suddenly, her newest achievement – _reading a book_ – did not seem very impressive anymore.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Sitting in the uncomfortable waiting room chair, Kagome looked around at the other patients. Her mother had dropped her off early, too busy to spend the day ensuring her daughter made it where she needed to go. As a result, the ex-middle-schooler, ex-time-traveler, ex-priestess rested to one side of the room, observing the visitors to this office.

Naraku shared the facility, obviously. There was no possibility that all these patients appeared for _one_ doctor, no matter how good he might be. Plus, the building was large. Oh! And there were _three_ receptionists. Without a doubt, Naraku did not need three receptionists.

Ah, well… Back to her catalogue of the room. It was fascinating.

Behind the reception desk, there was a fish tank without any fish in it. And a coffee-pot without any coffee. Atop the desk lay a sign-in sheet, without any names. Next, on the side-table, the magazines were missing pages – someone had torn the puzzles out of the back of each issue. She noticed this, of course, because short puzzles were all that she had the memory to accomplish. Apparently, she was not the only person in the waiting room with that difficulty! Finally, the most interesting part of her perusal of the office… the windows were too high to look through, unless she stood.

With a dark sense of humor, Kagome found herself enjoying the irony. After all, it was true. Sometimes, absence was stronger than presence. In her mind, she attached this epiphany to an image of the waiting room, so that she would not misplace it.

A low hum of conversation filled the background of her mind, but the lady opposite her drew the most attention. The woman had scraggly hair, and she was mumbling quietly. Eventually, a nurse emerged with a page of written instructions. Handing the page to her, he explained whom she should call for her next appointment.

The woman nodded agreeably, and she folded up the paper, depositing it into her purse. For a moment, all was right with the world. Then, the woman's companion – an older man – asked _when_ their next appointment would be.

"In two weeks," replied the lady, unperturbed. "As usual. It's on my calendar."

Gently, the nurse corrected her. "No, it is in three weeks," he told her. "You needed to reschedule. Do you have your planner? Maybe we can write it down."

Searching through her purse, the woman could not seem to find the calendar. There were many other items inside of the purse, and all of these gradually journeyed to her lap, but no daily planner. "I didn't bring it," she apologized, the bewilderment evident in her tone. "I'll make a note."

The nurse handed her a business card, with the doctor's name and number on the front. Then, he handed her a pen, when she proceeded to be unable to find one in her purse. Kagome could _see_ the ballpoint pen, sitting in her lap, and obviously so could everyone else, but no one said anything. No one dared to upset her more.

After transcribing the proper information, she put the business card into her purse as well. The elderly man beside her offered to carry it, until they arrived home, but she stoutly refused. "I can remember it," insisted the lady, pushing the unwashed hair off her forehead. "I have to keep the instructions with me, so that I don't forget. "

"I know," the elderly man answered tiredly, "But perhaps you should let me carry it for you."

"It's simple. I take the card out of the purse and write the information down on my schedule," she said. Her voice slowly dropped in volume, until it reached the mutter that she had used, earlier. "Take the card out of the purse, write it down. Take the card out of the purse, write…"

Tears swam through Kagome's eyes, because she understood it. That woman wasn't broken. She would repeat that information over and over to herself, until she could transcribe it onto its proper location. She wouldn't forget – she wouldn't allow herself to forget! The old man, he was only trying to help. It would probably be easier to let him take care of this situation. He could carry the appointment card for her. But then, she would be broken and in need of constant care.

_I wonder_, Kagome thought absently, _If I sound crazy too. It is easier to remember things, when you repeat them out loud. But repeating them aloud, that makes you sound terrible. Terrible._

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

"One last try," Naraku said, "Then we can go home."

For some reason, the diagnostic tests today had been awful. Perhaps it was because she already felt upset. The family shrine would soon be empty. Just like the inside of her mind. On the other hand, perhaps today's tests had been awful because they were so _difficult_!

First, they had analyzed her executive functioning – something like that. There had been images on a page in groups of three. All of the images related to each other, following an unspoken "rule" that she had to ascertain. Then, she had to describe to the neurologist what the _fourth_ image would look like, if there was one. Which there wasn't.

Following the Unspoken Rule of doom was very difficult, because she didn't know what it was. She had utterly failed this task, every single time, and she had the feeling that it was supposed to be simple. Yet her brain could no longer handle an obvious, immediate, intuitive result. Her intuition, her intellect, it had vanished without a trace.

Next, they had investigated her attention span, and the ability to dump _old_ information out of the short-term memory, while taking in _new_ information. In Kagome's humble opinion – this test was the worst one ever invented. She had never been good at math, and this activity required lots of it. Naraku read a list of numbers to her, one digit at a time. She was supposed to add the first two numbers together, then add the next number to the previousnumber, and so on. Again, the task should have been a lot easier than it seemed. All she had to do was _add_.

For some reason though, she could not do this. If he read very, very slowly, then she could manage. But if he only waited a few seconds, before reading the next number on the list, then she forgot absolutely everything. By the time that she remembered what she was supposed to be doing (adding two numbers), then he had already moved on… And the process started all over again.

Also, if she repeated the numbers back to him aloud, while she added them, she could accomplish this task. But he did not allow her to do so, and Kagome did not argue this point. After all, she had listened to the woman in the lobby. It had sounded obscenely frightening to listen to a woman murmuring thoughts out loud, in order to keep them in her head.

Seriously, this addition test – it was like torture. "Okay," she sighed, blue-eyes trailing the floor. "I'm ready to try again."

"One," the doctor began. He read very slowly. "Three."

The first one was always easy. Simple addition! "Four!" she chirped.

"Four," continued Naraku.

"Eigh… I mean, seven."

Right! Of course, she wasn't supposed to add the next number to the _sum_ of the previous _two_ numbers. She was supposed to add the next number to the previous number itself. Forget about the sum, remember the last two numbers. Forget about the sum, remember the last two numbers. Forget about the sum… She could do this!

"Seven." Dark-red colored eyes ignored her entirely, in favor of a stopwatch. "Six."

"Thirteen?" He made a mark on the paper in front of him, and she realized that she had already missed one. A pair of numbers had slipped past, while she was trying to remember the rules of the game. It was like watching a soccer game and reading a book at the same time. It was like talking to her mother and listening to her grandfather, simultaneously. It was …

Torture. Absolute torture. He was enjoying this, wasn't he?

"Nine," Naraku said next, relentlessly refusing to allow her to give up.

"Gah!" she cried out. Forget about the sum, remember the previous number. And the previous number was… what was it? She couldn't remember. It was… "Nine and six is fifteen!"

"Don't say them out loud," he remarked peacefully. "Just try to add the last two numbers that you hear, inside your head. Ready?"

She nodded her head, chagrined.

Thankfully, after she tried (and failed) to perform simple math for several more minutes, the neurologist surrendered. With a sigh, Naraku laid down the pencil and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "We're leaving for the day," the dark-haired man declared. "This seems to be beyond your scope."

"Well, you read too fast!" complained Kagome.

The look that he gave in reply, it said 'And you whine too much'… Clearly. But she ignored his nonverbal argument. He had only waited about five seconds… okay, maybe ten seconds… between reading each number. How was anyone supposed to add two numbers, in only ten seconds?

Staring down at her wrist-watch, she counted out the moments between _then_ and _now_. Oh, well… Damn. Ten seconds was a really long time, wasn't it? Normal people could add numbers like ONE and THREE together, in only ten seconds.

In fact, she used to be able to perform simple math. Even without a calculator. But now…

It was late in the afternoon, almost dinner-time, when they finally departed the clinic. Morosely mourning the absence of _intellect_ and _memory_ and _home_, Kagome wandered toward the lobby. The waiting room was empty now, and she plopped into a chair by the door, wondering when her mother would pick her up for the evening.

"What are you doing in here?" asked a voice that she was used to hearing, although not outside the office. She looked up, in surprise.

Without the white-coat, the tie, and his security badge, she almost didn't recognize him. Naraku had also unbound his hair, and pitch-black curls spilled across his shoulders like ink. Kagome stared.

"You're going home with me," he continued smoothly, "Remember?"

Doubtless, the joke seemed far more amusing to him than to her. Of course, she did not remember. Of course, he knew that.


	10. Dislocation

Author's Note: Naraku is the "bad-guy" so spending time with him must be stressful. It took me a while to imagine a suitably horrible scenario. Then – it hit me! – what would be the worst place to be _with memory problems_? Hmm. I also needed extra time to (a) move out of my apartment, and (b) imagine why her family might possibly agree to allow Kagome out of their hands. (My family wouldn't...)

**Unscathed**

**Part .01 – Dislocation **

"Oh!" Kagome exclaimed, utterly fascinated and slightly overwhelmed by the sight before her. "How strange! The house looks larger inside… somehow."

To the outdoor observer, the neurologist's home was nice but not substantial. Yet indoors, the area spread wide on both sides like a palace. She faltered on the front step, chewing her lower lip.

Obviously, she had not paid enough attention earlier. Walking through the front door, she had thought there was only enough room for a tiny hall-closet on the left… But the chamber was at least as large as her living room. Maybe the house stretched away from the street, in such a way that one could not perceive its corners accurately, from the outside? Yes, that was probably it.

Sliding her shoes off, she cautiously edged forward, maintaining her distance from Naraku. A look of smug satisfaction had been surreptitiously creeping over his face, as they drove, and it unnerved her for some reason. Shouldn't a professional act aggrieved or annoyed, when a patient needed to stay the night? It wasn't as though his home was a hotel, or something.

"So… Do I get a tour?" she added, with a strained smile.

Red eyes met her gaze, and he turned his head curtly, as if he could barely keep the humor from showing in his expression. "Would you like one?" the man practically purred. "I don't mind, of course. Although it likely will not help in the end."

Frowning, Kagome felt discouraged. True, he was a doctor, she was a neurotic patient, and he knew her mind better than she did. But he didn't have to rub the fact in her face! She knew that she couldn't hold onto new memories.

"No, I'm not bad at forming spatial memories," protested the priestess. "I'll remember…"

Cold hands slid to the small of her back, ushering her away from the front door, and the breath caught in Kagome's throat. Hey! He didn't have permission to… to… touch her! Did he? The self-doubt was habitual by this point, attaching this final query to her mental tirade by default.

But before she could speak, he distracted her. "Not what I meant," Naraku corrected her smoothly. "Actually, it shifts. Sometimes, even I have difficulty finding certain rooms."

The icy sensation that always haunted her, at the doctor's office, began to seep into her skin in a new location. Shaking her head, but helpless to do otherwise, she asked. "What shifts?"

He smiled fully now, but it looked bitter, tinged with sarcasm and sadness. In fact, 'bittersweet' probably did not have a satisfactory definition, before meeting Naraku's smile. "The estate," he replied simply.

"That's not possible," groaned Kagome, thinking that it must be a joke.

A tiny portion of her heart suspected it was true, however, the moment he announced this. After all, the inside seemed larger than the outside. Perhaps volatile floor-plans were possible too.

"So judgmental, for a girl who travels through time," he countered, the caustic slant to his smile steadily increasing, "Encountering half-demons."

Wide-eyed, she broke free from his grip. "I…" Kagome said, quickly loosing momentum. In a way, there was only one response to such a remark. Yet even though she knew how ridiculous it sounded, she verbalized it. "You weren't supposed to _believe_ me."

And despite her incredulous tone, she was glad to know that he did.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

There were artifacts in every corner. Everywhere she looked, Kagome discovered antique mirrors, dark urns, old looking scrolls and prints. Even a few weapons decorated the walls, here and there. Parts of the house resembled a feudal-era castle, while other portions imitated more modern rooms. In her mind, she pictured a palace being squeezed through a cheese grater, leaving behind similar flavors in a fragmented style.

Ironically, she could not find a phone anywhere. She wanted to call her mother, to let her family know everything was all right. Furthermore, she held a visual image of a telephone receiver attached to a wall in the kitchen. But try as she might, Kagome could not find the kitchen. Nor could she find her host.

This was terribly frustrating. It seemed like she spent the entire day meandering around this place, without successfully noticing a phone. Not that she knew how long she had been walking. Perhaps she had only been looking for a few minutes.

Agh! Rubbing her hand over her forehead, Kagome massaged her temples. Life was not supposed to be this difficult.

All right, then. What could she learn from _this_ room? It had an urn by the window, and it had six tatami mats spanning the floor. There was a black leather chair, beside a desk and some bookshelves.

Looking down at the sketch that she carried in her hand, though, Kagome realized that the paper had no more room to add to her diagram of the house. So far, the floor plan of the house looked… interesting, to say the least. Turning over the sheet, Kagome scribbled down the latest information on the margins of the back of the page, followed by an arrow indicating where this room would meet the one she had just exited.

Still, no phone though. Maybe she could ask for a cell phone, so that she never got disconnected from the rest of the world, by accident. Maybe she already had received a cell phone, and she just didn't recall it.

How long was she supposed to stay here, again?

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

She was in the Waiting Room of Absence, again. Right now, only one other family was present. The man sat in a chair facing the corner, with a vacant expression on his face. It wasn't a peaceful expression – just vacant. Odd, but Kagome could tell the difference.

On the floor, a child crawled across the carpet, continually being pushed back toward his father by a nanny or a babysitter. She guessed that the girl was not a real relative, because no one else could be so utterly uninterested in a little kid. If the girl had been an older sister or a mother, then she would have been down there on the floor playing with this child. Right?

Frowning slightly, Kagome watched as the teenager herded the toddler toward the front desk once more, using nothing but her feet. A flare of anger developed in her chest. None of the nurses seemed to care either. The woman at the receptionist's desk was talking to a patient on the phone and did not have enough time to fritter away taking care of someone else's child.

Finally, Kagome slid from her chair onto the floor, folding her legs beneath her. With a smile, she started talking and the toddler immediately looked her way, while the teenager gratefully took a seat, temporarily relinquishing all child care duties to a stranger in a doctor's office. "Hey there!" Kagome announced brightly, "Do you want to draw a picture with me?"

The light-haired boy gradually made his way over the carpet to her feet. She envisioned loads of dirty, nasty bacteria attaching to his hands and subsequently picked him up, depositing the boy on her lap as she returned to her seat. "Of course, you do!" continued Kagome, "Well, look what we have here?"

Pulling out the only sheet of paper that she had close at hand, Kagome found herself the unsuspecting, sole performer for a rapt, pre-speech audience of one. The only available paper happened to be her calendar; however, there were blank pages in the back of the book. Note-taking space that she surely did not need, as much as this child needed entertainment.

Next, talking the boy through each and every step, she wrapped her hand around his on the pen. They began to draw shapes on the pad of paper at the end of the calendar. First she drew a square, told the boy what it was, and then allowed him to try drawing one too.

Chortling loudly, the toddler completely failed to draw a comprehensible picture. The scribbles covered the entire sheet from side to side. "Very good," nodded Kagome.

She released the pen and clapped her hands together in front of him, to applaud his drawing skill. This, too, excited her young audience. He clapped once, imitating her, before grabbing the pen again and attacking her notepad. Banging the pen against the paper repeatedly, he eventually tore the top few pages with the force behind his drawing.

"Yes, those are 'dots'. Very good," the blue-eyed girl informed him solemnly. At least this activity could be educational for him. She tapped her finger against the sheet of paper lightly, one tap at a time. "Dots."

With a tiny squeal of delight, the boy scribbled across the surface of her note-taking pad over and over again. _Today_, Kagome thought absently, _I let a child write on my brain. _

After spending time to play with the child, she felt her heart reach out to him. The man with the vacant stare in the waiting room was doubtless his father. And no one else seemed to be here with him. The other girl simply did not care.

All this time, she had been thinking about her accident in terms of how it related to herself. Every instant had been interpreted selfishly – what did she remember? How did she feel? What did _she_ want?

At long last, Kagome recognized that she was not the only participant in this game. In her memory, she had not asked her little brother how he felt, not even once. She had never encouraged her mother or grandfather to tell _their_ side of the story. Surely, this disaster had affected everyone involved, not just her.

But it was not until she imagined this little boy growing up, unattended, half-ignored in favor of a 'sick' father, that she understood the true complexity of the situation. What did everyone else think about her memory loss?

"Oh!" exclaimed the receptionist from behind the counter, as she hung up the phone. "You brought your baby today? He's charming."

Wide-eyed, Kagome turned to face the main secretary, wondering if the woman simply did not pay attention. She was fifteen! Wasn't she?

"No, he's with…" she stammered, gesturing vaguely toward the pair in the opposite corner of the room.

Immediately the lady understood. "Ah," answered the receptionist with a sharp, criticial tone, "Yes. They've been here for hours. Sometimes the doctors are too 'busy' to remember their patients, I suppose."

Behind the front desk, one of the secretaries nudged her partner surreptitiously beneath the counter. The receptionist looked slightly lost, for a moment, and then suddenly recovered her purpose with vigor. "What? Oh! Yes, that's right!" the woman continued, glancing from her partner toward Kagome. "You were with Mr. Kagewaki all day yesterday. He takes off one day per month, for religious reasons, he says. What was it like?"

Bewildered by the sudden change in the direction of the conversation, Kagome looked at the child in her lap. Who was Kagewaki? For goodness' sake, didn't these people know that she was a patient here too? Obviously, she did not remember things like… like the _past_.

"It was fine," Kagome responded blankly, quickly changing the subject. "Do you have any little hand-wipes for this guy? He was crawling around on the floor earlier, and his hands must be dirty."

Every one of the ladies behind the desk appeared terribly crushed that she did not tell them more. Evidently, this 'monthly holiday' business had been bothering them for a while. But technically, Kagome really could not help them, for she knew even less about it than most people.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

"Here, have some more tea." Her mother was sitting beside her, in the middle of a café. Staring moodily out the window, Souta rested on the opposite bench.

Kagome blinked. The happiness was leaking out of her, although she did not know why. She was with her family again! That was wonderful. After all, she had thought about nothing but going home, the entire time that she lived with her neurologist, Naraku.

Apparently, she had successfully changed hands. Maybe this meant that they had a new place to live, instead of staying in the shrine? Plastering a smile onto her face, she turned to her mother and asked.

Across the table, her little brother groaned. "Oh, geez," he mumbled bitterly. "Don't ask again."

"It's fine, dear," Mrs. Higurashi nodded. Neither one of the children felt certain whom she hoped to reassure with her statement. "At the moment, we are moving into a three-bedroom apartment close to Souta's school."

Pouring the tea into Kagome's cup, her mother calmly finished explaining the layout of the apartment in a tone of voice that implied she had done this several times. A little bit more of the tranquility drained from Kagome's heart.

"Three bedrooms?" she asked in puzzlement. Then, trying to inject some humor into the dialogue she added, "Hah! I'm rooming with Souta, then. I hope he likes pink!"

But instead of laughing, her brother kicked his chair back roughly and marched away toward the restroom. As the boy stood, she noticed that he looked taller. Inches taller than she had ever seen.

"I also found a job," persevered her mother. "And your grandfather is helping to renovate the shrine. Eventually, he hopes to give tours. Rather than leave you home alone, all day long, your neurologist has kindly agreed to let you stay in his daughter's old room, until we can afford a day-time nurse."

"Oh, okay." Confusion now permeated her features. "Wouldn't that still mean I was alone all day long?"

A breath of air passed her mother's lips, as if she had slowly inhaled a bit of patience and peace. "No, dear," commented Mrs. Higuarshi. "It seems you relate to the other patients in the office, very well. Tell me that story about the one-year old drawing on your lap, again."


	11. Renewal

**Unscathed**

**Part .02 – Renewal **

With a sigh, Kagome leaned back in her chair, staring at the ceiling. They had been at this for hours (or so it seemed). Didn't the doctor know that when they spent time alone, outside of the office, it was not supposed to constitute treatment?

"I don't know," she whined, "It all gets fuzzy after being in the hut with the bandits."

"Well, that is one of the symptoms of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder –avoiding stimuli associated with the event. But repressing your memories won't work forever," declared Naraku. It sounded reasonable and true, what he said, but it also sounded contrived. As if he was forcing himself to think of another reason why she wasn't trying hard enough to regain her fallen memories.

Poking at her dinner plate with a fork, Kagome wondered why psychologists insisted their patients should _talk_ about terrifying memories. Wouldn't it help, to repress horrible recollections in the darkness of one's mind? It was a safety maneuver. Which meant it was safe. Which meant it was good and should not be undone.

"All right, let's try another method." If nothing else, Naraku was incredibly perseverant when he focused on a particular subject. And it seemed like he truly _wanted_ to assist her in recalling what happened to the Shikon no Tama. "Try and picture what the scene would have looked like to someone else."

With a sigh, Kagome slid her fork across the empty dish in front of her. Right. This was supposed to help. First, he had asked her to try to remember all the other sensory input from that day. For example, what did the wood in the hut feel like under her fingers? What did the other bandits sound like? What background noises did she hear? That sort of thing.

When this did not lead her to the memory, they had tried working backwards from the ending. What was the last feeling she remembered that day? But, no. The second technique had not worked either. She very firmly did not recall anything after leaving the bandits' hut in the forest.

"Um…" murmured the ex-priestess, unsure what she was supposed to do now. "Imagine what it looked like to Inuyasha?"

"Yes," agreed the neuro-psychologist calmly, "That will do."

For some reason though, this frustrated Kagome further. Envisioning what _Inuyasha_ might have thought or what _Inuyasha_ might have wanted was nerve-wracking. She threw her fork at the plate, rising to push her chair toward the table.

"Why would I want to know what _he _ was thinking?" the dark-haired girl spat, traces of anger and bitterness seeping into her tone. Then, quickly her cheeks flooded with color. He was only trying to help. She should not be rude to a doctor. "May I be excused?" she finished politely, meekly.

Red-eyes absorbed her rage, noting it with interest. For a moment, Kagome felt distinctly like a science project or a puzzle that he simply ached to dismantle. But eventually, he nodded and she slipped away, attempting to subdue the panic that suffused her at the thought of remembering what she had forgotten.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Ayumi was not there, Kagome noted sadly. Eri and Yuka had joined her for lunch, but the quiet girl who usually made the third part of the party was missing today. Still, Kagome felt very proud of herself. She had set up this lunch-date all by herself!

That might not sound like such a huge achievement. Yet truly, it was. She had not been out with her friends in a long time. And she certainly had not _arranged_ a meeting, since her accident.

Forsaken by her own mind, she was lost. Every day was a broken fragment, filled with shattered images of reality and fiction. To be honest, sometimes it was hard to tell what was actually occurring around her. After all, if trips to the feudal era, magic, and reincarnation were real, then how could she grasp what was possible and what was not? Without being able to rely on her brain as a reliable source of knowledge anymore, and unwilling to admit that what she _saw_ comprised the sum-total of existence, Kagome had difficulty taking action or making decisions.

Despite the brain-damage, though, she had managed to organize a reunion today.

It had started when she caught herself thinking about Ayumi that morning, and she realized that she had never called the girl back about their Algebra problem. After the Last Class, they had been discussing a math problem in the hallway. But Kagome had run off, because she was eager to return home and see what her mother was preparing for her birthday. Lackadaisically, she had waved at her friend, promising to contact Ayumi later. There had never been an opportunity.

Rather than telephone Ayumi about a homework assignment that was completed, long ago, Kagome had decided to use this opportunity to instigate a gathering with her friends. First, she had dug through her belongings for her cell-phone (yes, she did have one!). Then, she had told one of the girls to pick her up at the footsteps of the shrine, rather than reveal the fact that she was living with her neurologist (which seemed a little bit weird). Finally, she had found a bus-stop, mapped out the directions to her old family home, and spent some of her pocket change to take public transportation to arrive there.

It had taken all morning, but Kagome had successfully managed to go out with her friends for lunch! She knew how long it had taken her, because she had written down each step that she took in her calendar, crossing it off when she finished the task. And now… sadly, Ayumi was not even present. The one girl that she had been thinking about, while she achieved her goal, and Ayumi never even appeared.

Yuka and Eri were more than capable of filling in the gaps in the conversation, however.

"It's awful, you know?" the short haired girl was commenting rather loudly, from where they sat in the WacDonald's booth. "I know, I know. But the idea of so much misfortune heaping up against our peers – it's so tragic."

Sipping her soda, Kagome nodded, as though she understood precisely what they were discussing.

"It's wonderful the way the rest of the school came together to help her, though," Eri concluded grandly. The headband on her shoulder-length hair had been replaced by clips today, Kagome noted. They both had longer locks than she remembered.

Carefully, she inquired, "What did the rest of the school do?"

"Oh!" exclaimed Yuka. "It was so nice! After the aneurysm, all the teachers encouraged students and their families to donate money to his family. They managed to collect 200,000 yen, to help the family pay his medical bills."

Upon hearing this, a sharp pain lanced through Kagome's heart. She was unfamiliar with the emotion, though, and she didn't understand what she felt. Filing the sensation away for later analysis, she paid attention to the dialogue.

"Aneurysm?" she asked gently, hoping that the question did not make it obvious that she had no clue what they were discussing any longer.

"Yes," Eri stated. "Where one of the blood vessels in the brain bursts open and starts bleeding. He almost died."

"It was extremely eerie, after the way you suffered a coma," added Yuka, the words following her companion's in rapid fire. "One of our teachers has an aneurysm! He's only twenty-eight. And there isn't any way to _prevent_ an aneurysm!"

"Mm," Kagome agreed mildly. "Is he okay?"

Staring at her oddly, Yuka told her, "Yea, he lived. They got him to the hospital very fast. He'll make a full recovery."

Obviously, she had slipped up somewhere, Kagome thought. They had finally noticed that she didn't remember the outcome. They had to repeat it twice – yes, he was fine. Yes, the surgery went well.

"Good," she noted, looking down at her empty drink cup. "Good."

But it wasn't good at all. That unfamiliar feeling was welling up inside of her again.

Why did this news bother her so very much? Rage, hatred and envy knotted themselves up within her chest, as soon as she heard that the professor was 'fine' and he would recover. God! What was wrong with her? Didn't she want him to recover? Somehow, the only thought that she could grasp within the storm was this – _No one helped my family pay the medical bills._

It made her feel ungrateful and small to compare her misfortune to someone else's near-death experience. But she did. And she could not stop.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

That night, she woke abruptly in the middle of the night. For what seemed like no reason at all, Kagome found herself breathless, gasping for air. An image filled her mind, like a splintered shard of glass lodged between her eyes.

It was a memory, she knew. There was no way that it could be anything else. Too much terror filled the image, gathering behind it in ever-thickening layers, for this to be part of her imagination.

At her side in the memory, there was something hard, pushing against her ribcage like an armrest. But it was too high in the air. Wood pressing into her chest.

As though a flash of lightning had lit the sky, the background looked bleached out and wrong. The colors were over-exposed, bleeding into a massive blur of white toward the left of the picture. Never in her wildest imagination had she dreamed of painting a landscape with such hues.

The most prominent part of the memory was a claw, like metal, approaching her right eye. Kagome had literally yanked herself out of the dream, turning her head away from the threat with all her might. But in the back of her mind, she knew it would not be enough. As a human, she was not fast enough to avoid such speed.

A flash of red flooded the lower half of the image. But there was no sound. No sound at all.

She thought she could die, and it would not hurt too much. Death brought peace and nothingness. Sometimes, it was better than agony.

But she hadn't died, had she? Kagome had lived. Broken and different now, but alive.

It was just a memory.


	12. Suffering

Author's Note: Aww. Poor Naraku. I felt sorry for him in this chapter. He enjoys pointing out what he has done, but in the end, there is no one left to brag to!

And congratulations to me! I managed to fit 'suffering' both explicitly and implicitly, into each segment of this chapter.

**Unscathed**

**Part .03 – Suffering**

_The most common symptoms of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder_, read Kagome, in the book that she had pulled from one of her doctor's shelves. _Intrusive thoughts causing a patient to re-experience the event, avoidance of stimuli associated with the trauma, and . . . _

Throwing the book down, she rubbed the heel of her palms against her head. But the throbbing feeling in her temples did not decrease. This was stupid, really. It was just a dream of a memory. But afterward she had paced back and forth, all night long, too upset to sleep any more. Searching books for what she thought was 'wrong' with her - this would not provide an answer that helped her avoid the issue. It just busied her mind, allowing her to overlook the fact that she was not resting.

Finally, as the sun began to rise, she moved into the bathroom. Filling a glass of water, Kagome drank it slowly and sank down on the cool tiles of the floor. A few hours had passed, and now, it was just a memory of a dream. Her nightmare no longer demanded attention.

She stayed on the floor anyway. The bathroom seemed peaceful, quiet and dark. More than anything though, Kagome wanted to go home and relax in her pink-themed bedroom. Hadn't someone mentioned that she was staying in a chamber that used to belong to Naraku's daughter? If so, then the girl had never decorated the place. The bedroom seemed cold and sterile. And there were no photographs of the girl. It was as if Naraku's daughter had been erased from existence, if she had ever existed at all.

As she lingered on the tiles, a tiny bug began to crawl across the far wall. It was heading away from an air vent in the ceiling into the bathtub. Mildly curious, Kagome watched it progress for a few minutes, before she finished her water and used the glass to entrap the beetle. Next, sliding a slip of paper beneath the glass, she encouraged the bug to climb onto the page.

It was kind of cute, this beetle. Not that insects were really 'cute' in the same way that babies could be. But still, it was alive and resolutely trying to escape the water glass that she had plunked over its head. In a daze of exhaustion, she observed the bug as it inched around the inside rim of the cup. Around and around and around, it went.

At last, she carefully picked up the glass, holding the paper she had inserted beneath it. That way the tiny beetle would not go free. Now, all she had to do was to find the way outside of the house. Then, she could release this little guy into... a garden, or something. Naraku had a garden outside his home, didn't he? Maybe?

With this new objective in mind, Kagome devoted herself to the task and pushed aside all her worries and concerns about her dream. The terrifying memory. The memory that she wasn't thinking of, at all.

Unfortunately, the nature of the house came back to haunt her. Unfamiliar with this territory, the miko never felt quite certain whether she had entered a room already or not, when she opened new doorways. And certainly, she could not figure out which one of these rooms led to the front door. This wasn't her house. She wasn't really staying here. Perhaps this shifting floorplan was part of the bad dream that she was having...

A hand on her arm stopped her from continuing. Still half-asleep and dead tired, she was not expecting the interruption. With a muffled shriek, Kagome whirled around and stepped back, looking behind her. But the only person there was ... Naraku.

OK. Well, that made sense. This was his house, after all. He had every right to be here.

As her heartbeat calmed, he glanced at the cup, upside down in her hands. Wordlessly, he asked his question by raising one brow. Kagome answered sheepishly.

"It's... a beetle," she said, pretending that this seemed perfectly rational. Normal, sane people often wandered around holding bugs in jars, right?

"Hm." The dark-haired man blinked absently, and then reached out to take the glass away from her. "Give me that."

Agreeably, she followed him into yet another bathroom, larger than her own. The neurologist tipped the tiny beetle from the inside of her glass into the toilet, before dropping a tissue on top of the bug to trap it, ensuring it did not swim to safety. Too late, Kagome gasped and moved to stop him. "Hey!" she protested futilely, "Why did you do that? I was taking it outside. To free it."

Ruby colored eyes dragged their way over to her face, lingering on her horrified expression. "Ah, I see," he declared complacently. "Now, it will drown instead."

"Well, if you're going to kill it, then at least crush it! That way it won't suffer." Morosely staring at the little beetle, its life ending as it floundered underwater, she bit her lower lip in consternation.

Naraku abandoned the glass he was holding by the sink, grasping her arms once more. Only this time, they were face to face. His gaze almost seemed to smolder, and Kagome attempted to retreat from him, only to be shoved against the wall. Eyes wide, she stared into his own, wondering desperately what this meant. Was he angry? Sad? Did she do something wrong?

But none of the above were true. Leaning forward until pitch-black curls drifted across her skin like ghostly fingertips, his breath was warm against her cheek. "Perhaps I enjoy watching it suffer," he noted, his voice low and rich, sending tiny tingles up her spine.

"Wh-why... would you enjoy that?" stammered Kagome.

"So kind that you even care for _insects_," Naraku continued darkly, as his right hand trailed its way up her neck. "God. When you act this way, it makes me want to _taint_ you."

The heat in his eyes practically scorched her soul now, blinding her with a crimson rain of blood. Her breath hitched unevenly, and a blush stole across her face. It felt like she could not get enough air, but for some reason, at the moment she did not mind. Heat swirled and settled in her stomach.

Tracing his thumb over her jawline, he finished somberly, "But you won't remember that either, will you? You'll just be pure again tomorrow."

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Souta was older now, although she could not say how much. Boys grew fast, during their teenage years. By the time he finished growing, she predicted she would be the shortest child in the family.

"Do you still have trouble listening to music?" her brother asked, lazily swinging one leg over the edge of the sofa.

They were sitting in an unremarkable spot, but it held the sofa and sitting chairs from the living room at their shrine. A television was pushed back against the wall, in the corner. The walls were white, and the carpet was beige or possibly cream-colored. Honestly, it was hard to tell. The carpet was so old that its color looked rather vague.

Kagome chewed on her lower lip, taking a moment to organize her thoughts. Perhaps her little brother was asking about music, because he wanted to listen to something? "We can listen to the radio, if you want."

Rolling his eyes, Souta shook his head curtly. "A few months after the accident," he clarified, "You said that you could no longer tell what notes people were playing during songs. It bothered you, because you used to like pop music, and suddenly, you could no longer tell if chords sounded good."

"Oh... Hmm." Wincing slightly from surprise, she asked, "Did I say that?"

He nodded, stretching and throwing his other leg over the side of the couch. With terrible posture, Souta managed to sprawl completely across all of the pillows. Just then, he resembled a cat made of rubber.

"No, no. I like music," Kagome asserted firmly. "I can tell what is harmonic or discordant, again."

And that was great! It meant that she had improved at something. Even without her knowledge, her mind was getting better, slowly but surely. Very slowly. But surely.

Come to think of it, Kagome realized that she had been going to ask her family about their own experiences. She knew bits and pieces of what had happened inside her own head. But that was only one side of the story. What had Souta, her grandfather, and her mother thought of the accident?

So, she inquired about her time at the hospital, hoping to hear the tale through someone else's eyes.

Souta did not exactly answer the question, but his response was sufficiently enlightening that Kagome did not press for more details. He understood perfectly what she wanted to hear. A story about the past that she did not remember.

"I guess Grandpa was the most upset," Souta mused. Closing his eyes, he nestled into the pillows more securely. "He kept pacing and pacing, outside the room. He worried himself to exhaustion, and I could hear him panting occasionally, gasping for breath. They never slept. Mom drove me home to put me to bed, but she stayed awake the whole time. They ate every five hours, to keep their metabolism going."

"Eh?!" squeaked Kagome, mortified by the idea that she had caused her loved ones to suffer so much anxiety. "But that's horrible!"

The twitch of Souta's shoulders suggested a shrug. "Mom was better with you than I was," he continued, unphased. "She told you stories. Hearing familiar voices stimulates brain activity, you know? So, she held your hand and told you things you used to do, when you were young."

Then, opening his eyes, Souta graced her with a smirk. Kicking his feet into the air, he lifted himself off the sofa at last. "For a while, I suppose it was like I had a _little_ sister! Always wanted one of those, whenever you would make fun of me in elementary school... "

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

They were walking around a small, sculpted lake. There were dark colored rocks, rising from the sides of the water, drawing forth the image of mountains in her mind. But the purple irises that lined the sandy pathway evoked poetry and the peace of a sand-garden. Little birds were chirping merrily in the trees, and Kagome felt relaxed and calm, as if everything was right with the world. It was not too hot outdoors, not too cold. All in all, this seemed like a perfect afternoon.

"Thank you for taking me here," grinned Kagome. "It's beautiful."

Naraku silently trailed alongside her, hands settled in the pockets of his slacks with his thumbs along his waist. "There is a bench somewhere to the right."

Glancing forward again, she noted that he was correct. The bench lay beside a group of larger trees, removed from the path by some bushes and a medium-sized Japanese maple. It looked like it brushed up against the edges of the park. In fact, every pathway they had crossed went in the opposite direction.

"A-ha!" she nodded eagerly. The light and happy feeling inside her bubbled out as humor. Well, attempted humor, at least. "That looks just about as comfortable as the average park-bench! Shall we sit on it?"

"Certainly," Naraku agreed.

But when she reached the edge of the park, a sliver of unease worked its way into her chest. This area, it reminded her very much of the forest around the Bone Eater's well. Not that this place was a _forest_, per se. It was obviously only a city park. There were flowers here! No one planted flowers at the side of sandy pathways, in the middle of a dark, forbidding forest. Still, the spot gave her chills. Maybe there was a building she could look at... Or a shrine. Or a fountain. Something made by men.

His hands settled at the base of her spine, guiding her to sit on the bench. Agreeably, she left enough room for someone to fit beside her, and her neurologist rested there. The sun was going down, and shadows were getting longer. Her own shadow was slightly taller than she was, by now.

If they were walking through a park as lovely as this, then it must be because she requested it. And that was sweet of him - to take time off from work, just to spend the afternoon with her. Unless today was Saturday or Sunday, of course. He would not be "off work" on the weekend.

Still, it was nice! She appreciated the outdoors. Fidgeting a bit, as she wondered what time it was and what day it was, whether they had eaten dinner, and whether she _looked_ as bewildered as she _felt_ half the time, Kagome tried to regain the relaxed, happy feeling that she had earlier.

"So... um... I was wondering," she babbled, trying to make conversation, yet completely unaware of what to discuss. Finally, she hit upon a topic. "Why did you become a neuro-psychologist?"

It seemed like a decent question. People loved to talk about their jobs, pets, and children. And most likely, she already commented on the weather or asked about his day.

An arm snaked its way behind her shoulders to lie on the back of the park-bench. But for the longest time, Naraku did not answer. Instead, he looked at her oddly, as though he was debating what to say.

"Er... I apologize," she continued. "If I have asked you that already, I mean."

" I was interested in learning about multiple personality disorders," he cut her off, looking out over the garden. "Many minds, all trapped together into one place. Apparently, it is common enough these days to deserve a _name_."

Then, having reached a firm decision, he lifted a bundle of fabric from the inside pocket of his coat. As he began to unwrap it, Kagome watched curiously. What was it?

"I've only heard of that on TV," she replied, observing him. "Like Yukito and Yue in Card Captor Sakura! He forgets what he was doing, when the other personality takes over."

"Indeed," Naraku agreed. His voice sounded hollow and clear, and the smile on his lips was brittle. "And auditory hallucinations, thoughts or feelings that influence action... One personality aware of the others, even if they aren't in control."

There was something metallic on the inside of the bundle of fabric, but she could not make it out, because they were facing toward the setting sun. Also, because the tone of his voice was puzzling. It made her look up to check his expression.

"Have you ever had a patient like that?" she asked.

"Oh, no," the dark haired man answered calmly, the bleak smile on his face growing ever wider and more wintry. "I thought I might suffer from it, myself. But it seems," concluded Naraku, as the darkness in his eyes took hold and froze her to the seat, "That textbook definitions are not for me."

Unable to look away, she heard rather than saw what he had carried in his coat. Chill metal circled her wrist and a series of small clicks echoed across her lap. Handcuffs linked her to the armrest of the park bench.

For a moment, she blinked, opening and closing her mouth, futilely. They had meandered through a lovely, scenic park, and he had directed her to this bench, and it was completely out of the way of anyone else's line of sight, and... perhaps she had not requested to visit this spot, after all. City parks were not so wonderful that she enjoyed being chained to them.

"What are you doing?!" protested Kagome, vehemently. "You can't..."

Firmly gripping her head between two hands, he leaned down to place a kiss on her brow. "To make sure you don't get lost in the woods," Naraku added pleasantly. "Don't worry. It is only for a moment. I'll be right back."

As he walked away, Kagome stared unbelievingly at the soft, black curls that told her, very firmly, he meant what he said. He was leaving her, right here. In the middle of a city park. Chained to a bench.

Without even a backward glance, he disappeared around the bend as the pathway curved into the distance.


	13. Luck

Author's Note: All the Inuyasha fanfiction readers have disappeared, in the last few months. This might be due to the ending of the manga? Or it might be due to my crappy story that I'm writing. Is anybody out there?

**Unscathed**

**Part .04 – Luck**

"_Don't worry_," he had told her. "_I'll be right back_."

She clung to this promise, with both hatred and desperation. Hatred, obviously - because normal people didn't handcuff girls to park benches, at sunset. But the other half of her mind desperately wanted to see Naraku again. Anything had to be better than sitting here alone, wondering what would happen, whether she'd be here all night, and how long she had been here in the first place...

It was almost funny, the way that other people seemed to view memory loss. She had seen movies about this sort of thing before, and in those, the patient with short-term memory loss always phased out after a certain amount of time, then came back as though the last few moments never happened.

But that was not what happened to Kagome's mind, at least to her way of thinking. If she had to describe how her mind operated, then she would have said it ran smoothly without any interruptions. It was simply that the amount of time she could remember was shorter than most people. Most people could easily hold onto a full day's worth of time. For instance, they could remember what they ate for breakfast, if they tried. A buffer zone of useless information hovered around the average mind, allowing people to look back and recall unimportant things, for a little while at least. Kagome's buffer zone was simply ... smaller.

She could still remember what had happened in the last few minutes. She could always remember the "last few minutes," no matter how far they progressed into the future. Thus, she could hold a decent conversation with someone, as long as they did not expect her to remember the _beginning_ of the dialogue. And if necessary, she could highlight very important information in her mind. These tidbits of important information faded quickly too, but it was always easier to recall things that were frightening or upsetting, and it was easier to recall thoughts that she tied to a location or a spatial memory, in order not to lose them.

So, it was very easy to remember what Naraku had said to her. They had been walking through a park. Then, he had handcuffed her to a park bench. Yes. Simple to remember this part. Because it had been shocking. Because it had occurred in an unusual location. The information was highlighted in her mind, and she kept returning to it, over and over again.

The hard part to remember was _when_ she had arrived, and _how long_ she had been sitting there, and _where_ Naraku had gone. Even more despicable - she really, really wanted to see him again! Despite the fact that she did not feel very friendly toward him, at the moment, for some reason his presence would still bring comfort. Hoping and wishing and praying he would return soon, however, this did not make Naraku magically appear.

The sun had set, and a cool evening breeze swept through the trees at the side of the park, distracting her periodically. Oddly enough, each time she was distracted by the sound of the wind through the leaves, her mind seemed to dump at little bit more of the information to which it had been clinging. Of course, this made her cling even more tenaciously to the remaining tidbits that she had not lost yet. Naraku would be "right back," because he had said that he would be. She could not allow herself to be distracted so thoroughly that she lost _all _of what she knew.

Rubbing her stomach with her free hand, she looked down and tried to ignore how uneasy it made her feel to sit there. This park seemed eerie and reminiscent of... something. It looked like the forest around the Bone Eater's Well. Yes, that was it. Not that she had seen that area at night, but thinking about the well always made her uneasy, just like sitting here.

Why would he have chained her, here? It still did not make sense.

Maybe he was trying to be nice. After all, someone with memory problems would be more likely to get lost. She did not recognize the park that they were in. So, perhaps he was simply... getting dinner for her, and he did not want her to wander off in the meantime.

Yes. That might be it. Naraku might be buying dinner for her and returning shortly. She did feel a tiny bit hungry.

A low sound broke into her consciousness, stealing away her attention. It sounded like a dog. A growling dog. She did not like growling dogs, did she?

Tugging on the metal that looped around her wrist, she tried to stand, but she was unable. Icy dread flooded her system, seeping into her veins, as she looked around the area trying to find the soft, distant growl that she heard. It was in the distance, wasn't it?

Facing the trees at the edge of the park, she finally perceived a man in dark clothing. Oh! Good, the dog that she heard, it had an owner. It wasn't just...

But then, she realized the man at the corner of the park was walking toward her. And it sounded a little bit like _he_ was the one growling. Terror coiled through her, entrenching itself even more firmly in Kagome's chest. She shifted again, trying to stand, yet for some reason, her hand was fixed to the armrest. Brow furrowed, she glanced down at her wrist and saw it was handcuffed to the side of the bench...

Handcuffed... wait... When did that happen? It seemed familiar, somehow. She could feel the answer tickling at the back of her brain, but she could not spare the mental resources to process it. She couldn't really think about anything, because the growl escalated into a snarling, intimidating noise, and when the strange man walked around the side of the bushes, she could see his hair glint silvery-white in the moonlight.

There were ears on top of his head, and he had _red eyes_, and... It was Inuyasha! Lifting one hand, the hanyou's claws shone deadly white.

And she had been here before, so she knew what would happen. When the half-demon dove toward her, claws outstretched, Kagome's mind went blank. She screamed.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

"I wish to become a full-demon," he said. Face down in the dirt, Inuyasha could not see what was happening around him, but he could hear the human girl's frantic heartbeat, and her desperate cry for help.

The moment these words escaped his lips, though, everything changed. A pulse of energy swept the clearing, and he felt stronger, endlessly powerful. No matter who opposed him now, he would win. He would crush them all.

The crow-demon which had been circling overhead, ready to attack Kagome once more, suddenly reared back, fluttering quickly into the air. It squawked, as the priestess raised her head, but she could not see the problem yet. Her side hurt, where the crow-demon's talons had scraped her flesh.

But a sinister laugh brought her focus back to the center of the clearing. Obviously, the subjugation spell had worn off, because Inuyasha was standing, and he was smiling now. The color of his eyes seemed wrong though, and there were jagged, blue stripes over his cheeks. And the Shikon no Tama was fading in his fist.

Oh no! The Jewel of Four Souls. He had made a wish on it, hadn't he? That had been the reason why she subjugated him in the first place, with the rosary beads around his neck. Because Kaede, the old priestess, said it would be terrible if anyone wished on the Shikon no Tama.

A swirl of pink, purple and black light eddied around her form, sweeping toward her after departing from Inuyasha's hand. With a gasp, Kagome rose to her feet, only to retreat when Inuyasha snarled. Like it would for most dogs, her quick withdrawal inspired him to attack. Claws slashed across her chest, and Kagome shrieked, trying to block with one arm.

"Osuwari!" she countered. The rosary beads around Inuyasha's neck lit up, slamming him face-first into the dirt once more. Kagome took off for the Bone Eater's Well. It wasn't too far away. And she thought it might take her home. At the very least, it would provide cover, where Inuyasha would not be able to hurt her.

A breeze was all the warning she had, before claws and teeth entered her right leg. Kagome fell, twisting her ankle on the rocks and dirt below, trying to roll out of the way. "OSUWARI!"

The subjugation spell held him down again. But this time, she kept chanting it, for as long as possible while she fled through the forest. It seemed to be working. The Bone Eater's Well was only a few more strides ahead, and nothing had attacked her for the last 50 meters or so.

Pausing above the well, she looked down into it and hoped that her wild idea was correct. This was the place where she entered the past, so perhaps it would be the place to take her home, as well. But in her moment of contemplation, she fell silent, and without the subjugation spell, Inuyasha ran free. She heard footsteps whispering through the grass behind her, approaching at unbelievable speed. Instinctively moving to check on what was coming up behind her, she whirled in place and tripped backward over the lip of the well, just as Inuyasha leapt for her form. He was crouched low, and he was close, so close, how did he get that close?

One last time, she activated the rosary beads around his neck. But she was not fast enough. Although the subjugation spell dragged him downward, it could not stop his momentum, and Inuyasha crashed into her as she slammed backward into the wood. Pain blacked out her thoughts, and when she fell, the magic at the base of the well pulled her forward through time.

"But we've already looked in here, a dozen times!" her grandfather's voice protested.

Light winked at her, through the darkness that surrounded her, but Kagome couldn't move or speak. She could hardly see any longer. Vision blurred and faded, while her ears began to ring. The last thing she heard, as if through a long tunnel, was her brother Souta's voice.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

There was screaming in the background, and someone holding down her wrists. An arm wrapped around her body, and she tried to remove it by struggling as hard as she could, but the arm was insistent. "It's all right, Kagome," the voice told her, "Calm down."

Lights, electric lights overhead, illuminating the pavement in a splotchy pattern of orange and yellow. Shiny metal. No forest. The voice repeated its message, slowly, over and over, and the hands around her body pressed her into something soft.

_No, no, no_. Kagome's mind protested. Writhing like a snake, she battled the arms that restrained her. As she twisted away, one of the hands looked close enough, so she put her mouth over it and bit down with all her might.

The flesh in her mouth faded away, running out between the gaps in her teeth like water. Arms still restrained her, but there seemed to be warm bindings that wrapped around her legs, also. She wriggled in place.

"It's all right, now," Naraku insisted firmly. "Open your eyes."

She shook her head. A small clicking noise at her side immediately drew her gaze, however. In the back of her mind, that seemed like it might be an unexpectedly threatening sound... But no, the soft click was just a seat-belt. People wore seat-belts in cars. And they were currently in a vehicle.

Panting for air, she tried to focus on the person in front of her. It was just Naraku. He was a doctor, not an enemy.

No, he was more than a doctor. He was a friend, too. No one else understood the pain and panic that she had undergone, both physical and mental. But he would solve everything. She was glad to see him. So very, very glad.

Kagome whimpered and tried to throw her arms around him, only to discover her hands were still in his grasp. A line of blood traced around one of her wrists, and it looked like she had scraped the skin raw. When Naraku's grip loosened, she slumped over against him and he shifted awkwardly, halfway in and out of the car, leaning over the front passenger seat.

"He wished on it," she mumbled into the front of Naraku's shirt. "On the Shikon no Tama. And it made him crazy. And he was going to kill me, really this time, so I ran to the Bone Eater's Well, and..." Her words continued, but they made steadily less and less sense, because she was sobbing more than speaking by the end.

Once more, the dark-haired man comforted her, rubbing the top of her head with one hand. "Breathe slowly," he advised her, "You're safe with me, Kagome."

The Bone Eater's Well had been the only place that she could think to go. It was where she had entered the nightmare. Obviously, it was where she would have to leave. And her family must have found her there at the base of the well, broken. Souta would have sworn up and down that a monster had dragged her into the well. But the authorities would never have believed it, assigning such a tale to be the ravings of a child.

Surely though, the police must have wondered what _did_ happen. Where exactly had she been for three days, after she fell down the well, before her family discovered her? No wonder her family had decided upon a story of a hit-and-run driver. It was the only way to obtain medical treatment without sounding absolutely insane. But her scars... they had to look more like claw-marks than an injury that a car was capable of delivering. So, why would the doctors have believed in the hit-and-run story?

Kagome didn't know, because she could not remember anything that happened after falling down the well. In fact, the final few minutes before she fell were blurry also. She simply recalled pain and terror, and red eyes and blue stripes. Inuyasha had become something lethal and terrifying.

"He wished to become a full-demon."

"You remember more of what happened before your accident, now?" the neurologist inquired with interest.

In a daze, she repeated it. "Full-demon."

A small smile worked its way across his face. He pulled away slightly, but he continued to brush one palm lightly over her hair in a calming motion. Kagome fisted her hands in the fabric of his shirt. "And did you see what happened, after that wish," Naraku prompted gently, after they sat in silence for a few more minutes, "To the Shikon no Tama?"

She hiccuped, finally beginning to breathe more slowly, but still too fast for the situation. "It disappeared."

"Disappeared?" he frowned, a thread of displeasure lacing through his tone.

Nodding her head, she agreed. "Vanished into a swirl of colors and light, all around us."

Naraku pried her hands off his chest and drew back from the seat, only to close the car door and walk around the front of the vehicle. When he sat in the driver's seat, his face looked impassive again, but she could detect impatience and dissatisfaction simmering below the surface. As he started the car, she uneasily twisted her hands in her lap, practically high on the adrenaline that had flooded her body earlier.

"What happened?" she asked innocently, unable to remember.

"Nothing," he replied. "You had a dream, after I walked away in the park. If I had known you felt so tired, then I would not have left you there, alone."


	14. Comfort

Author's Note: Based on last chapter, one reviewer thinks Inuyasha is a bad-guy, too. :-) I tried to make last chapter fairly explanatory, assuming Kagome doesn't know about any of Naraku's powers... And it _was_ Inuyasha who originally hurt Kagome.

**Unscathed**

**Part .05 – Comfort**

Complaining did not always work. At least not the way that it was supposed to. When one person complained, it was intended to inspire others to comfort and console the speaker.

But Kagome had a terrible record at this game. This was due to the fact that she could not recall whether she had whined about a particular issue before, and due the fact that any comfort she received tended to roll off her shoulders, like water off a duck.

For instance, when she had complained this morning to her grandfather, he had not comforted her at all. Instead, he had made her feel very foolish.

"Actually, my dear," Grandfather Higurashi explained, "People _did_ bring you gifts in the hospital. The room was overflowing with them."

With a sigh, Kagome shuffled the large cardboard box she was holding onto her hip. She was at the shrine today, helping her grandfather renovate. Boxes of knickknacks, treasures, and family heirlooms seemed endless and inscrutable, as always.

"No, that's not what I mean," continued Kagome. "Maybe other students bought me flowers, get-well cards, or whatever... But in my _journal_ it says, that Eri and Yuka told me, that everyone helped pay _medical bills_ for the teacher who suffered an aneurysm. That doesn't seem..."

"Fair?" the old man interrupted her, merrily. If the grin on his face was any indicator, then he was obviously enjoying every second he spent with his granddaughter, however fussy she might be. "Others are not responsible for paying your medical bills, Kagome. Certainly not the students."

"Then, why would they offer to help raise money for a teacher?" she grumbled a little more. "It just made me think I'm a bad friend. People didn't like me as much as... some other guy... whose name I can't even remember anymore. Argh!"

Her grandfather merely laughed. "Ah! Now, you know how I feel all the time! When you get older, the memory begins to slip."

"Maybe I shouldn't even bother keeping a journal." Walking into the storage closet, she placed yet another giant box onto the ground, then stood and wiped her hands.

The closet was gradually beginning to fill, and the other storage closet beginning to empty. Yes, they were shuffling items from one storage space to another. But this was not as useless as it seemed! The next steps would be vital in the renovation project - stripping the paint, sanding the wood, and refinishing the other storage closet.

Grandfather Higurashi tugged absentmindedly on his beard. "Why do you say that?"

"Because it's full of useless information, and it just gets longer and longer. Keeping a journal is depressing because it shows how _sick_ I am, and how I'm not getting any better."

The old man only shook his head from side to side. "I think you are much better!" he crowed happily. "Each time I see you, I am impressed at how far you have come."

With a sigh, Kagome rubbed the sweat off her forehead and looked at her grandfather forlornly. "Thanks. I guess someday this will be a distant memory, and I'll feel glad to have journals documenting my insanity," she muttered grumpily. But after a short pause, she brightened once more. "Oh! On the plus side - I write my dreams in the journal too, and early September was the first time I dreamed in Japanese again!"

Her grandfather looked surprised. "Were you dreaming in some other language, before?"

She couldn't help it. The giggles poured out of her. "No, I didn't hear 'words' at all. Only sounds that I understood, somehow. But this time, I dreamt of a stage production about a murder mystery! I was supposed to be helping the audience solve the crime."

"I shall be sure to tell my friends. Everyone wants to hear how you are recovering," he nodded solemnly. "Although strangely enough, half the time they tell me how they suffer similar symptoms. When you break a leg or sprain a wrist, most men don't want to hear about how it happened - secretly, they want to tell you about the time it happened to them!"

"Yes, " Kagome agreed complacently. "But 'comparative injury' stories don't work very well, in terms of short-term memory loss."

As they finished emptying the first storage closet, so that it could be refurbished, the eldest Higurashi continued. "You'd be surprised!" he exclaimed. "They just have stretch farther. I have heard about strangers having car accidents in Argentina, and someone's mother's cousin's friend who suffered head trauma years ago, and..."

"Oh! Good grief, that sounds awful," she sympathized. "How do you put up with it?"

Grandfather Higurashi just winked and tapped his nose. "I nod, smile, and I listen."

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Naraku had taken her to a new environment for their session. Or whatever it was that they were doing, together. At the moment, they were resting in a small, glass-enclosed courtyard, with a tree at the center of the area that provided plenty of shade. Benches dotted the yard, facing away from the windows toward the tree. Kagome wondered if the enclosure was inside the office building where Naraku generally visited patients, but she did not bother to ask, because she had probably asked already. That was just the way things went, most days. Always best not to demonstrate how forgetful she was.

The neuro-psychologist seemed restless today. And his discontent seemed to be rubbing off on Kagome. Sometimes when she was around him, she felt intensely uncomfortable, like there was a dark aura hanging over him. Deep inside of her, something would stir, ready to fight. Usually, Kagome managed to calm down again - but _today_ - an unidentifiable thought was itching and scratching at the back of her mind, informing her that sitting on anything resembling a park bench, with a doctor, this was a Bad Idea. She didn't really know why it should be a problem, yet it was making her very uncomfortable.

"Did I tell you about the dream I had?" she asked quietly, shuffling her feet against the flat stones in the courtyard, looking basically anywhere other than at her doctor. "About Inuyasha and his wish on the Shikon no Tama?"

"Yes," Naraku agreed blankly. "But you may discuss it with me again. Do tell me about 'Inuyasha and his wish.' " As he spoke the last few words, they sounded slightly acidic.

Ironically, this flattered Kagome. The dream had been about Inuyasha hurting her, and Naraku did not seem to like Inuyasha any more than she did, at the moment. That meant he was displeased to hear about someone injuring her. A sweet, protective gesture, when she thought about it. Perhaps there was a pleasant side to regaining awful memories and sharing them with others.

"Oh, I don't know," she evaded the question. "I can't begin to imagine why he would have wished to become a full-demon."

Sunlight sprinkled down through the leaves overhead, as a breeze swayed through the courtyard. Kagome leaned back, gazing up at the tree.

"Is that so?" Naraku rejoined impassively.

He smelled like coffee, and there were five empty paper cups in the nearby trash can. How long had they been sitting here? The coffee cups in the wastebasket might have belonged to other people, however. This looked like a public courtyard.

Naraku's restlessness was back in full force, now. Reaching to the back of his head, the dark-haired man stripped the small tie from his formerly tidy curls. Then, he began to fidget with it. No, really! He sat there with the rubber band in his lap, stretching it between his fingers. Kagome stared. This seemed like extremely unusual behavior for her doctor. Since when did he fidget?

Eventually, the rubber band snapped. He threw it away. Without even a flicker of expression, he spoke again. "Sometimes, the secrets we harbor closest to our hearts are the ugliest ones."

The words drifted over her, and Kagome felt strangely drawn to him. Obviously, something was bothering the man. Since she didn't want to talk about the violent memory that she had regained of Inuyasha, then perhaps she could focus on comforting her doctor. After all, she had nothing better to do.

With a soft smile, she scooted infinitesimally closer to Naraku on the bench. "Well, not everyone has dark secrets!" she announced brightly. "And as long as you have someone to share them with, then it's not so bad... It might not bother you so much, if... I mean..."

Quickly running out of steam, Kagome bit her lip. Good heavens! Had she always been this dreadful at consoling people? That was not at all what she intended to say.

Apparently though, she had said enough. "Surely, you don't believe that," he replied. One corner of his lips slanted upward, but it was not exactly a smile, it was more like a sarcastic smirk. "Everyone has darkness within, even you. Think about it for a moment. You must have wanted something you could not have, at least once."

Kagome blinked. Then, retreating, she scooted even farther away on the bench, glaring at the flowers beneath the tree in the courtyard. "That's not the same thing as harboring a dark, ugly secret," she pouted, "That's just... thinking about life."

"Come now," Naraku said. An almost teasing quality entered his tone. "Don't you have a memory like this?"

Kagome rubbed her wrist nervously, wondering why she never seemed to remember to wear a wristwatch. She was always curious to know what time it was, yet somehow, she only remembered to wear one when she was alone. Or maybe not even then. She should write it on her daily list of things to do.

Perhaps she did not wear a watch, because of the inflamed skin around her arm. A raw looking scab circled her wrist. How strange.

What was the point of the entire conversation, again? She had been going to comfort Naraku. And he had managed to deflect her concerns, until she felt like the one withholding information, instead of the other way around. A neuro-psychologist was a very frustrating individual.

On the positive side, the frustration burned away any remaining nervousness that she possessed. It was easier to talk to her companion while she was ticked off with him. "Before my accident, I always wanted to be special," she told him, crossing her arms over her chest. "Now, I'm 'special' in the wrong kind of way. There! Happy?"

"No," he answered, before he tugged on the sleeve of her shirt, "That is not a secret, that is an obvious desire. Everyone has it. Pick something that you would never tell anyone else."

"I don't have any secrets like that."

All right, fine. Perhaps that was not true. After all, the definition of a secret was basically: 'something you don't want to tell anyone else.'

He looked unimpressed, if not outright disbelieving. They fell silent again.

Finally, she spoke. "Once I wanted to someone to die, very much." The memory of Inuyasha attacking her, it shivered through her brain like a broken dream. But it was in the past, she reminded herself firmly. He could not hurt her anymore. "He was trying to kill me. Desire rooted in self-defense is... less bad, right? I don't really want anyone to die."

"Everyone dies," Naraku told her calmly. "Time itself is the subtle destroyer of all we have built."

Evidently, he was still unimpressed with her reasoning. His voice sounded almost weary and a little bit cold. So, he was still chewing on a secret that he did not want to explain. Not even to a forgetful girl who would always keep the secret, because she wouldn't remember what he said.

Sliding forward until her shoes reached the grass instead of the paving stones, Kagome slouched on the bench. As she gazed at him, she thought long and hard about what Naraku had said. In the end, maybe he was correct. Dark secrets _were_ the ones harbored most closely to the heart. The ones which she'd never tell. The fact that she _was_ able to talk about certain things, maybe that meant they did not matter as much.

Honestly, then. What was something she would never ever tell him, not in a million years?

Sensing her insistent gaze, his soft, dusky red eyes slid over to meet her light blue-gray ones. Kagome blushed. Because for a moment, under a tree in a peaceful courtyard, dappled with spots of sunlight and shade, he looked breathtakingly handsome.

_Hm_, she thought. _Well, maybe that would count._ She definitely would not be telling her doctor that she liked him almost as much as she hated him.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

She blinked into the darkness, wondering what she had heard that woke her. Whatever it was, the room was completely quiet, now. It was also eerie, how dark the room was. Didn't she usually leave the curtains open over her...

Oh, yes. She was staying in Naraku's house. Not her own home.

Turning onto her side, she buried her head into the pillow. But sleep did not return. It was like endless silence and inky darkness actually distracted her, making her think too much to be able to rest. After a while, she tossed herself in the other direction, twirling the blankets around her figure as she rolled.

A stabbing pain briefly flared in her side, before fading away again. Kagome gasped, collapsing onto her stomach, hopelessly entangled in the blankets. What was that? It felt like a knife, entering her torso right above her hip.

When she placed her hands over the area, however, she could not feel anything wrong. No blood, bumps, splinters, or other damage had been done to her hip. She lay there for a few more minutes in silence, before finally dragging herself out of the bed and walking groggily over toward the restroom that attached to her chamber. Perhaps she just needed a bathroom break, and then she could sleep again.

Afterward, she washed her hands, and then, she made the mistake of glancing upward. A bleary eyed Kagome stared back at her through the mirror over the countertop. Come to think of it, she could not remember the last time she had actually looked in a mirror. No, no! This wasn't just her usual memory loss. This was something even more. She had not had any desire to look into the mirror in... well... since her accident.

Running her hands through her hair, Kagome considered this. The knowledge was there inside her brain, even if she did not know where it came from. Mirrors were bad, because then she would see what everyone else saw. A tired, disheveled, morose girl, who appeared older than she remembered being, with scars all over her body.

At the moment, she was wearing long sleeved, heavy pajamas. The pink color of the fabric taunted her with what it concealed. When was the last time that she actually bothered _observing_ her body, after the accident? Was she ashamed of herself? Is that why it made her feel uncomfortable to think about looking in a mirror?

There was no reason to be ashamed of herself. It was not as if she had wanted to be hurt. And she was not damaged goods - everyone else said she was getting better daily!

Resolutely making a decision, Kagome pulled off the pajama bottoms and started unbuttoning the top. She would observe what she looked like and then she would write about it, in a positive fashion, in her journal. That would be good for her self-esteem, and it would give her something to do, since she wasn't able to sleep anyway.

But her resolution faded away into thin air, once she had actually opened the top of her pajama set. When she drew back the sides of the shirt, a soft, sinister glow met her eyes. Underneath the cross-shaped scar on her hip, there was a iridescent circle of light, gleaming at her from below the skin. She could barely see it. The colors were not very bright, and under her clothing, the shimmering orb would be swallowed completely.

It looked like the Shikon no Tama.

How could that be possible? It was the same spot in her flesh, where a centipede-demon had first ripped out the Jewel. But somehow, the Jewel had reinserted itself into her skin. Into her muscle. Perhaps into the very bones of her hip.

Would something like the Shikon no Tama show up on an X-ray? Surely, she had undergone X-rays at the hospital, after her accident. Yet no one else seemed to know where the Jewel had gone. None of the doctors ever inquired (to the best of her knowledge, which was admittedly quite awful) about the strange marble-like shape, embedded beneath her skin.

Guilt and confusion swamped her. Half of her wanted to find someone, tell someone. Perhaps she could wake Naraku, and inform him - even if it was the middle of the night. The other half of her mind wanted to forget about it entirely. Tell Naraku? No, way! He might think she sounded crazy! Besides, it was none of his business.

And if she felt upset by the idea of having the Shikon no Tama inside her flesh, once more, then all she would have to do to comfort herself would be... to button her pajama top, again. Because she probably would not recall it, on her own. Not really. Maybe a flash of suspicion, or an image of herself in the mirror with a glowing orb in her hip, but nothing that would detract from her day to day life.

Gasping slightly, panting for air, Kagome clenched and unclenched her fists. At long last, she made a decision. It was a cowardly one, perhaps. Slowly donning her pink pajamas once more, she poured herself a glass of water, and then purposefully returned to bed.

Sleep was a long time in coming.


	15. Strangers

Author's Note: Yes. Kudamemo are real. And cute too. Go look 'em up!

**Unscathed**

**Part .06 –**** Strangers**

"What does it depict?" the man asked, "That is a good question. But more importantly, what does it _say_ to us emotionally?"

The young man had a charming smile, and she returned it. His hair was tied in a short braid behind his head, and he wore a fingerless glove on his right hand. He also had the most amazing violet-colored eyes. Kagome felt invigorated just standing beside him.

Together, they were looking at a giant picture. It was modern - a red square, slightly off-center, covered with diagonal tan and navy lines. White paint was spattered over the surface of the canvas.

Kagome knew they were not in a museum, because there was no other art in the area. Just two armchairs, a sofa, and a cheap-looking side table beside a potted plant. The room resembled a dingy building lobby. The air smelled like disinfectant, reminding her of a hospital. Perhaps this was attached to the medical center where Naraku saw patients? Or perhaps the doctor visited patients in full-fledged city hospitals as well.

"I think it looks like..." she mused, as if abstract art was a very serious topic of discussion, "A plain square of post-it notes, with pens and pencils laying on top of it. And maybe the person was about to write something important, but she sneezed. And now there is so much... white stuff... on top of it, she doesn't want to touch it anymore."

Unable to control herself any longer, Kagome broke into a fit of giggles. Well, abstract art could mean many things to many people. But she had certainly never told a story about _snot_ before.

"For shame!" her companion crowed merrily. "The picture shows a beautiful woman, with a red flower in her hair, barely glimpsed through a tiny, square window."

"A-ha! This means that I like post-it notes," inquired Kagome, "While you like beautiful women?"

Her companion beamed a thousand watt smile. "You like _post-it notes_?" he teased. "That will not turn into a beneficial relationship - even if you buy Kudamemo."

"Kudamemo?"

"Three-dimensional fruit shaped post-it notes," nodded the man. His violet-eyes sparkled with amusement. "I have heard they are making apple and pear shaped stationery, so far. But sadly, these cannot substitute for actual food."

This made her laugh too. It felt like she had laughed more in the last few minutes than she had in weeks. In fact, her cheeks hurt a bit from smiling so much. That could only be a good thing.

"So," he continued unfazed, "Aside from gracing Dr. Kagewaki's office with your presence today, what are your plans? I, for one, have not eaten lunch yet."

_Dr. Kagewaki_? Kagome thought, momentarily puzzled.

Finally, it dawned on her. This was her neuro-psychologist's name. So, they must be in the doctor's office building. As for _how_ she knew the doctor's last name, this eluded her. The fact lingered in the back of her brain, and the information came forward after she chewed on it for a while. She knew she had been slightly embarrassed when she learned the name, and... she had been holding a small child. Hmm. How vague.

More importantly, the young man was acting like an old friend. They must have met each other, after her accident. Otherwise, he would not know the name of her doctor.

Unfortunately, she could not remember his name. And of course, she did not want to ask him again, because that would make it obvious she had forgotten. There was no need to be rude to such a nice young man, when they were clearly on friendly terms.

But then... if she told him about her doctor, she must have told him about the accident. Perhaps it was not a problem to ask his name, one more time. Rubbing her forehead, Kagome tried to focus on the dialogue.

With a slight blush, she shook her head, "No, I haven't eaten anything. At least, I don't think so."

He happily swung one arm around her shoulders and shuffled her toward the elevator. An arm over the shoulder, this signified closeness and affection. But it was also slightly annoying, considering that she did not (and would never) _remember_ the young man. She shrugged his arm off when they reached the elevator, and her companion did not protest.

They went upstairs in the elevator to a small rooftop cafeteria. All right. Five tables with umbrellas over them, and a counter with some food and drinks next to a cash-register. Calling it a cafeteria might have been too generous. It looked as if very few of the workers in this building patronized the spot.

As they stood at the counter, Kagome picked up a fruit drink, but when the young man pulled out his wallet and attempted to pay for both of them, she protested. "You don't have to do that. It's not like this is a date... or something." It wasn't, was it?

"No, no. When a man is trying to impress a woman," her friend replied nonchalantly, "He takes her to _nice_ restaurants. Since this is a cheap one, I am doubly responsible to pay for your item."

Kagome smiled, sensing he meant well. Although it still felt odd, letting someone else pay for her food, she decided that it was all right. Truly, he had the most charming smile! It should be illegal for a man to look quite so adorable and mischievous, at the same time.

They meandered toward one of the tables. But it was not until they were both seated, when the young man broke the spell he had put her under. Sitting across from her, he leaned forward in the chair and worked on opening his sandwich to drag the onions out of it. "So, what is your name, sunshine?" he asked brightly.

Her heart abruptly turned to ice in her chest. They weren't friends? They were having a bubbly, friendly conversation, and he had known her doctor's name, so she had assumed... But they were not acquainted! He did not know her name.

Roughly pushing her chair back, she stood and glared. "Excuse me," Kagome spat, "I have to go."

Really! He knew the name of her neuro-psychologist, so he must have known all along why she was in the building. Indeed, she probably told him. Told him that she had brain-damage and she would never remember him, and he had acted as if they were old friends, knowing that she would forget that they _weren't_ actually old friends, after he spoke with her for a while, and now... she felt extremely foolish and ticked off.

Violet eyes widened momentarily, but quickly melted into a smile again. This time, the grin looked slightly placating. "Now, wait. I think..."

She did not wait to hear any more. Stalking toward the door, she re-entered the building and headed for the elevator. The annoyance that she felt, it morphed into sarcastic self-disgust as she moved. Clearly, she was not well enough to do things... like... walk around without a chaperone. She should probably return to Naraku's office, straightaway, before she forgot what _building_ she was in and wandered out onto the street. Getting lost in a strange part of town, wouldn't that be great?

The young man pursued her to the elevator. "Did I say something offensive?" he inquired, apologetically. "I told you my name, so I was simply curious to know yours. I..."

"Kagome." Fiddling with the fruit drink in her hands, she looked down at the ground. "My name."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Kagome." His tone seemed sincere enough. But she did not look up.

When the elevator arrived, the black-haired man glanced sheepishly down the corridor toward the café, but he boarded the lift beside her. Kagome realized he must have abandoned his lunch entirely, simply to run after her. She frowned. His behavior was so... so... cute. It wasn't fair!

"At least allow me to escort you," the young man smiled again, "To your destination?"

And because she could not seem to stay mad at anyone for longer than thirty seconds, Kagome rapidly forgave the young man for his misdeeds. Given the circumstances, all he had done "wrong" was to act in a friendly manner. Perhaps she hadn't told him about her accident, after all. Maybe he thought she was the doctor's secretary. A nurse or an attendant. That she had some other reason for being in the building.

With a faint smile, she allowed the company.

When the elevator doors opened, however, Naraku stood just outside. His dark red eyes slid over to her companion. "Ah, there you are," the neurologist said flatly, stepping back to give them room to exit the lift. "I was about to start looking for you."

Kagome glanced over at her companion, who looked slightly chagrined. Rubbing the back of his neck with the gloved hand, he laughed half-heartedly. "Sorry for taking so long," he explained jovially. "But you know what happens when I run into a beautiful lady!"

It looked a bit like Naraku had bitten a sour grape, and he did not enjoy the aftertaste. An acidic frown crept over his face.

The young man standing beside her either did not notice or did not care. "Kagome! This is my employer, Dr. Kagewaki," he attempted to introduce them, with a wink. "You were outside his office earlier today..."

Hmm. So, the other guy had not learned the doctor's name because of her.

A cold hand slipped around her own, gently tugging her forward, and Kagome blinked in confusion, glancing up at Naraku's face as she moved to stand beside him. Brushing her cheek with the backs of his fingers, he returned her gaze, levelly. But the gesture did not seem sweet. It was proprietary.

"Masao was going to help look after you tomorrow," her doctor's tone sounded chiding. "But I think perhaps I do not his assistance, after all."

The younger man sputtered helplessly. "_This_ is...? Oh, I mean... Of course. I can still look after the girl, if you like. Nothing untoward will happen."

The icy glare that the doctor sent in his employee's direction, it seemed to say quite clearly that she was one of his patients and he was _very protective_ of his patients. Or at least, this is how Kagome interpreted it. Surely, there was no other reason why Naraku would act overprotective around her.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

"You must keep in mind," Naraku explained later, "At first glance, others cannot tell anything is different about you. This is both a blessing and a bane."

They were standing inside a room that she dimly recalled. A computer sat in the corner, bookshelves above the desk, and filing cabinets to one side. Strangely enough, she recognized the pattern on the wallpaper and nothing else in the room. It was a room in which she had taken a computer-generated test. She had needed to hit the spacebar whenever certain letters appeared on the screen. A thread of irritation had bundled up the memory and tied it to the wallpaper, allowing her to keep it.

Naraku was packing several boxes full of files. Apparently, he was taking a few days off from work, and to compensate for this, he was bringing half the office home with him. Kagome had helped for a little while, before she had become bored and started contemplating the mystery of the wallpaper and why she recognized it.

"You can hold a steady conversation with others, whether or not you remember it long-term."

"I fail to see how that could be a bad thing," she said.

Huffing slightly in impatience, the doctor rose to his feet with a box and stacked it by the door. "You, yourself, told me how much it annoyed you, when you discovered Masao did _not_ know you."

"It's okay," she concluded delicately. "I mean, I don't remember him too well anymore, but he seemed like a nice enough..."

Naraku turned back from his widening pile of boxes. He seemed discontent. "Masao is a trickster and an incorrigible flirt - you would be wise not to trust him," he interrupted. Toward the end, his words trailed off, nearly inaudible. "His entire family line..."

"Well, if you don't trust him," she replied tartly, "Why ask him to 'look after' me? I am an adult, you know."

"Because the _last_ time I left you alone in that house," Naraku growled angrily, "You wandered through nearly every room, seventeen times, and you forgot to eat!"

Provoked by the hostile tone, Kagome repaid him in kind. "No!" she gasped, pretending to be shocked. "A person you invited to _live_ in your home had the audacity to look at it!"

Before her accident, she was not so easily exasperated and annoyed. But it seemed like her temper had a shorter fuse, nowadays. As if she was going through all the stages of childhood again, one at a time, and her emotional state was slightly more babyish than teenage, at the moment. Not that teenagers were known for having patient temperaments, in any case...

Shoving one of the lighter boxes into her arms, he loaded the rest onto a small moving cart. "We are not having this conversation," Naraku decided.

Kagome decided that answer was good enough for her.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

"... So the birds started to accompany the orchestra!" Masao told her pleasantly, gesturing one hand in the air. "They were so chirpy! They didn't like trills or loud chords with brass instruments. They seemed to enjoy oboe and clarinet, though. And long, sustained, mushy sounding chords in the string section."

He was telling her about going to an outdoor concert. It had been called the Blossom Festival, or something along those lines. She didn't remember anymore. But that was not the point of the story. Obviously, the point of the story was... to listen to him talk and to let him make her laugh. This was a skill that Masao had definitely mastered.

"Mushy sounding chords?" she giggled.

"Yes," he nodded firmly. "And as the sun went down, birds flew around in the rafters. Frogs and fireflies came out to croak and flash. Can you imagine listening to 'Pictures at an Exhibition' and having nature sing along?" The violet-eyed man shook his head, mockingly amazed.

She laughed again, although she did not quite believe the story. It sounded very far-fetched. Birds that accompanied an orchestra. Hah.

"How do you know the birds weren't just doing what they normally do, at that time of day?"

Opening his eyes a bit wider, as if he had never considered this idea, not even for a moment, her companion insisted that his story was true. "The timing, of course! They chirped the most when they heard chords!"

They were sitting in the kitchen of... Well, she assumed it was the kitchen of Naraku's home. Although she could not remember it, the place had a very domestic feeling in comparison to a kitchen in a hospital or an office building. Plus, she could see a list of 'Things to Do' carefully written on a sheet of paper and taped to the wall across the table. It looked like her handwriting.

Also, she saw a dry-erase board on the refrigerator, which bore her handwriting. A list of food, it seemed, followed by a summary of the nutritional content of each item of food. Hmm. Now _that_ was a good idea. Why hadn't she thought of that?

Had she thought of that?

Probably not. She was living in a neuro-psychologist's house. He probably made all sorts of helpful suggestions, such as "_Why don't you write down what you eat, so you don't forget and accidentally overeat or starve to death?_"

"So, what do you do for Naraku?" she asked. Hopefully, she had not asked him this already. Even if she had, though, she chose to ask again. Because the sheet of paper on the table before her, it said he worked for the neurologist. And it didn't say anything else. And she had a pencil. And she would have written down the new information.

Evidently, he found it amusing how she held the pencil and prepared to take notes. "Ah! If only other ladies hung on my every word, in such a fashion!" When Masao smiled, it seemed to encompass his entire face, swallowing his eyes whole. "To be quite frank," he continued, "I do whatever he tells me."

The job description was so simple that she didn't write anything. She tried to draw out more details. "What sort of things?"

"Anything?" the young man countered. His voice turned up at the end, as though he did not expect her to believe it. Naturally, she didn't.

Tapping the pencil on the paper in front of her, Kagome snorted skeptically. "If he told you to jump off a bridge," she began again, trying to pick the most outlandish example that she could. "Would you do it?"

But it did not faze him. The smile on Masao's face never even faltered. "Yes."

Right about then, she realized he was not joking. Sitting up straighter in the chair, she wondered if she could get away with writing "slightly crazy" under her description of Masao. Sadly, the answer was no. He was sitting right next to her. He would see it.

"Why?"

And for the longest time, she thought he was not going to answer. As a result, Kagome did her best to pay attention and not to allow any other distractions or topics of conversation to arise. She simply gripped her pencil more tightly.

Finally, her companion relented. The corner of his mouth quirked wryly, as he explained. "Because my life depends on him."

Surprised, she blinked at this black and white, stark description. Was it just another joke?

"For hundreds of years, the first born sons in my family line... well... They all die before turning twenty," The violet-eyes dimmed slightly, but the smile remained. Masao simply looked a bit more serious, more sincere. "But a few generations ago, my grandfather met up with Kagewaki-san. He is able to keep the curse at bay, somehow. My grandfather died a peaceful death, as an old man."

Yes. She was definitely going to add "crazy" to her description of Masao. "And your father?" she asked next, trying to smile sweetly, despite the creepy element of their dialogue.

"Alas, no. My father died a few years ago in a car accident," Masao said, spreading his hands wide. "Nothing that magic could do about _that_."

_A-ha! That is how I can fit the weird part into my notes,_ Kagome thought happily. _ Even though I am in front of him._

Quickly moving her pencil, she wrote that Masao's grandfather and father both died. One of old age and one in a car accident, but neither one of them killed by the curse on his family line. She underlined the word curse, several times.

The emphasis on the word would help her remember it was something extremely weird to talk about.

Masao's violet eyes sparkled with mirth, despite her subtlety. "You think I'm crazy," agreed the young man. "But! I shall not allow you to make false reports about me. Even if you only report these things to yourself."

Rising to his feet, he extended a hand to her. The ungloved one.

"Come. I will show you."


	16. Magic

Author's Note: Dammit. I said there would be "more Naraku" in this chapter. And yet it turned into a different sort of chapter, without my permission! Maybe next chapter will have the scene I hoped to reach.

**Unscathed**

**Part .07 –****Magic **

Eyes wide open, Kagome could not stop staring. She was absolutely petrified, even though she knew that her companion would not harm her. And she was completely thrilled, even though what she witnessed was so unbelievable.

Half of the leaves had been stripped off the nearest tree. Flowers and stones were missing from the garden. Leftover debris was fluttering down onto her head from above. The entire garden seemed to pause and hold its breath, while Masao tightened the straps on the glove over his right hand.

He had taken her outside, calmly pointed his palm toward the sky, braced his right arm with the other hand, and then... somehow... unleashed fury upon the world. It was impossible. It was fabulous! A gale of wind had appeared from nowhere, immediately dragging everything in the surrounding area (including Kagome, if she had not been so heavy) toward the boy's right hand.

And after a few seconds, the violet-eyed boy had collared the storm. By putting the glove back around his hand, he had stopped the madness as abruptly as it began.

She didn't really remember what on earth they had been talking about indoors, or how this scene had come to pass. But Kagome definitely remembered every single second that had passed, when Masao ungloved his right hand. The amount of wind sweeping past her head, it had been shocking, searing a path into her memory.

Of course, she still wanted to write down everything that she had seen. Masao did not seem to mind. He had even provided her with pencil and paper. Or maybe she had carried these things outside. Either way, she scribbled notes frantically, trying to describe the windstorm which had appeared when Masao did ... whatever it was that he needed to do, in order to make it appear.

Slightly embarrassed, the young man moved to sit beside her on the lawn. As he flopped onto the grass, crossing his legs, he announced half-heartedly, "There! Now, you know I'm not crazy."

"Did I say that...?" Kagome asked hesitantly. Only the last few minutes had burned their way into her memory; she could not recall much of what happened earlier in the day.

"Oh, no," her companion assured her. "You were much too polite for that." Tapping his finger against the page where she had written a few lines, he pointed out the spot where her handwriting mentioned that his family line suffered from a curse. "Instead, you underlined that word _very_ firmly. Very doubtfully, too. So, I had to show you what it meant - the curse."

Blinking incredulously, she opened and closed her mouth uselessly, before returning to her description of the windstorm. The black-haired boy read it, over her shoulder. Overall, he seemed amused.

"What causes it?" she said finally.

Through the corner of her eye, she saw him shrug his shoulders. "Supposedly, a shape-shifting demon tricked an old monk into believing it was a beautiful woman," Masao explained. His voice sounded skeptical though - almost flippant. "When my ancestor tried to banish the youkai, it cursed our entire family, forever and ever."

"But you don't believe that?" the blue-eyed girl prodded, trying to clarify the story before she recorded it on paper. "Why not?"

"Well, the facts behind the stories... these things get lost over time." A small smile crept over his cheeks, once again. After a few more minutes of silence and intense scribbling on her part, Masao carefully inquired, "Will you add that to your journal?"

She glanced up, still rather overwhelmed by the obviously _magical_ attack that her companion could draw out of nothingness. It had to be magic! He suffered from a hereditary curse. And based on his comments, she had been too judgmental the first time he told her about it. For someone who remembered falling into the past, meeting demons, and having a mystical Jewel torn from her body - clearly Kagome had been too quick to deny the existence of other magical things like... like... curses!

"Journal?" she murmured, staring at the notebook paper in her hands. Did she keep one? Probably. It seemed like a good idea. She would find the journal, once they went back indoors.

As if he could sense her confusion, the man shook his head. "Nevermind," he said, "I just meant... If you do, then you should mention that... you weren't scared." With a sharp glance, Masao gazed at her curiously. "You weren't scared, right?"

"Um..." This line of questioning seemed too bizarre for words, in Kagome's opinion. What was she supposed to have felt about a magical windstorm? "Maybe a little."

Some of the blood drained from her companion's face. "No, no... You... " Masao protested weakly. "Oh! Just say that you weren't."

Frowning slightly, she clutched the paper closer to her chest. "It's none of your business what I add to my own journals."

"Still, you should write that you weren't," the violet-eyed boy encouraged her with a grin. "I didn't think you looked scared at all!" Slowly, he leaned forward and plucked a leaf out of her hair, where it had settled after being stripped from the nearby tree. "I was supposed to keep you 'occupied', not scare you," Masao continued nervously, spinning the leaf between two fingers. And although his grin faded, it refused to vanish entirely. "Also, he promised to geld me if I flirted with you. You should write that down too. That I did _not_ flirt with you."

A tight puff of air was the only evidence of her frustration. "Stop being ridiculous. You're acting like someone else might read my journal," Kagome deadpanned. "But really, no one does. Not even me."

"Mm-hmm," the young man agreed complacently, disbelievingly. "Humor me, and put it down anyway. 'Masao Did Not Flirt with me.' " The capital letters were audible in his tone.

Kagome merely rolled her eyes.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Finally, her companion left. According to Masao, he had only been instructed to spend the day with her. Not the nighttime too. In fact, it had been strongly suggested to him that he would be putting his life at risk, by even thinking about such things.

No, she didn't really believe anything the young man said. He was a hopeless flirt, from what she could tell. Strangely enough, she did not mind.

There were pages and pages and pages of information that she had written down today, and nearly all of it was ridiculous. Half of the papers included upside down verbal battles between two people, pieces of text that had been crossed out, and crinkle marks that had been subsequently flattened again. It looked like they had fought over which one of them had the right to make the next entry in her journal. Which was annoying. But still incredibly funny.

The last part of their day together had contained yet another heated argument. Bored to death of sitting in the kitchen, Kagome had suggested exploring the house. She must have tried it once before, because there was a sprawling map in the back of one of her notebooks, which she had attempted to draw. It was not a very good map.

But when she suggested the activity, the young man had immediately protested. "_No! This house is creepy. Sometimes rooms disappear_," her companion had whined. "_But you can always find the kitchen! Stay in the room with the food_."

Of course, this remark had sparked her curiosity, rather than dampening it. If the rooms in the house actually shifted, yet a person could 'always find the kitchen' ... Well then, it was a valuable fact to know! Why could Masao always reach the kitchen, when he was hungry?

Perhaps rooms became more easily found, when they were needed?

It was not until her companion left for the day, however, when Kagome was able to test her theory. Masao had strictly forbidden her from leaving the kitchen, until the sun had set. He had actually blocked her from reaching the doorways! Both of them!

Sullenly, Kagome had stewed in silence for the last hour. She had even kept track of how _long_ she was ticked off, by taking notes and timing it on her watch. Masao had complained about this sort of treatment, briefly, but she had not relented.

At long last, the sun went down. It was the latest point he had been asked to stay and look after her. And although her companion offered to wait longer, she resolutely chased him out of the house, determined to test her idea. Alone. Since wandering through another person's house did not seem to appeal to Masao, and he had told her not to do it.

Her belief in magic had been refreshed, earlier in the day, upon witnessing Masao's curse. And now, she felt excited by the idea that rooms in a house might shift from place to place. Instead of believing that she was a terrible artist, who failed to draw an accurate map of the house, she wanted to know how it actually worked.

Wandering from room to room, Kagome attempted to walk in circles through the building, and sometimes she succeeded, while other times... she utterly failed. It was fascinating, really.

Apparently, a connection between rooms was established upon entering the chamber. For instance, when she stood beside the table in the kitchen, she could see into the 'next' adjoining room. And upon leaving the kitchen, through that doorway, she could still turn around and see the table behind her. It was not until she exited the second room, when the changes became obvious. If Kagome stepped into a _third_ room before returning to the second one, then the floor-plan shifted, and the connection to the kitchen was lost.

But even better - she learned that Masao was correct! She could force the kitchen to appear again, just by thinking about how much she wanted to _eat_ something. Afterward, all she had to do was walk through two doorways, and there it was. Unfortunately, it seemed that _at least_ two doorways were required, while focusing on a room, in order to make it appear. Once she had stepped into a chamber, the surrounding rooms became fixed in stone. She could not magically command the kitchen to appear, right before her eyes, simply by staring at a doorframe.

After several minutes of subtle backtracking and careful note-taking, she smiled. The relation between the current room and its neighbors, this did not seem to change unless one exited a room. Clearly, the mechanism that activated this eerie process - it had to be the doorway itself, right?

So, she tried standing in the doorway of the current room, while she visualized the kitchen. And this time, a prickle of sensation washed over her skin. Goosebumps rose on her arms, as she stepped forward and then backward, before releasing the frame of the door. Abruptly, the room she sought, it appeared before her eyes. She had achieved her goal; the kitchen was right in front of her. Evidently, the doorway could be tricked, by moving through it twice, while holding on to the wood that surrounded it.

Staring at the portal in awe, Kagome pressed her palms against the wood that surrounded her. She had guessed correctly. Somehow, the floor-plan was controlled by nothing but _intent_. And that was... That was very exciting news! After all, she was not the most reliable person, when it came to directions. With the loss of her short-term memory, she often wondered where she was, exactly, and how she had gotten there. Failing to recognize where she was, it could be upsetting. But in a house like this one, at least, she could always end up where she _wanted_ to be.

Reverently, she wrote down her latest discovery on the back of one of her notepads. She used a pen this time, carefully inscribing the information, before tearing the cardboard back of the pad into a rough square, and slipping the information into the pocket of her jeans. She didn't want to forget how to make the house cooperate with her. But notes were too easily lost. So, she left it in a spot where she knew it would be found again. Eventually. Her mother had always taught her to empty the pockets of her jeans, before washing them. And the note instructed her to transcribe the information onto her calendar, where she could see it every morning, as she woke up. That was much better than entering the information into a journal, which she might never look at again.

Oh! And she would tell her doctor! A bright smile broke over her face. But of course, he already knew how to navigate the house. He had to know. It was his own house.

Wait, wait. Holy crap. Naraku lived in a magical house... A _magical_ house! The smile could not seem to fade, even though her heartbeat accelerated and her eyes widened.

What kind of person could live in a magical spot, like this? It did not just appear on the market. Someone must have caused the doorways to respond like they did, in the first place. She had always thought that her neurologist was smart, and she had hoped that he could cure her, but she had never considered that he might be... a wizard, or something... That was really, really awesome!

And hadn't Masao said something about it, earlier? Digging through her loose-leaf notes, she read through them once more. But nothing came to mind. The pages simply told her about the curse in his palm, and a background story about why it existed. Yet she could remember...

A flash of an image in her mind, and she could see the violet-eyed young man, tilting his head to the side with a slight smile. "_Because my life depends on him_," Masao had told her with complete sincerity. According to him, Naraku was able to keep the curse at bay. And for that, the young man would do absolutely anything to repay the neurologist. Anything at all.

Moisture gleamed in her eyes, but it was not because she felt sorry for Masao. It was because she had remembered what someone _said_, without writing it down. A whole conversation. It gleamed at her, from within her mind, like a beautiful diamond. After her accident, she could easily remember objects, faces, spatial orientation, and disjointed dribbles of facts... but it was very, very rare for her to recall actual _dialogue._

She was still in the middle of the doorway between one room and the next, holding a pile of papers close to her chest. Gathering the pages into a neat, organized stack, once more, Kagome sniffled happily. This was not something to act _sad_ about! This was very good news! It meant that she had gotten better at something.

Naturally, Naraku was the first person with whom she wanted to share the news. Resolutely, she folded the papers and stuffed the entire notebook into the back of her pants, slamming both hands into the sides of the doorframe. As she closed her eyes, leaning backward through the doorframe, she thought of nothing but him. The next room she entered, Kagome decided, would have Naraku inside of it. If the kitchen was easy to find, when someone wanted to eat, then every room was easy to find. She simply had to want it, badly enough.

Cold poured over her, starting in her hands and trickling down her spine. And when she stepped forward, opening her eyes, the room she entered was almost entirely dark. Only the light from the doorway behind her showed Naraku, arrested mid-motion, halfway across the room.

The walls of the room were alive, and what looked like sludge had gathered around his feet, stirring slightly, as Kagome blinked in surprise. Ironically, her surprise was echoed on the doctor's face. Normally, he seemed so impassive, but at this moment Naraku looked shocked.

"How did you get in here?" he snapped harshly, although the astonishment in his voice partially tempered the hostility.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

"Put that down," the dark-haired figure beside her growled. Snatching the jar out of her hands, Naraku replaced it on a shelf at the side of the room. He seemed almost peevish concerning her presence in the room, which was a positively bizarre response, coming from this particular man.

"But it wants to get out!" Kagome crowed happily, good-cheer exponentially increasing as her companion became more irritable by the second. "Look! It wants to be free."

The sole light in the room still flowed through the open doorway. It smelled faintly of blood, rotting wood, mildew and mud. Differently shaped jars and urns, made from clay or glass or metal, filled nearly half of the room. Layers of shelves and cases supported the containers, and each one housed another monstrosity, an impossible contradiction of parts. Most of the contents of these containers were endlessly squirming, writhing inside the jars that trapped them.

For instance, in the glass jar that Kagome recently grabbed off the top shelf, there was a tiny eyeball with _wings_. It had no mouth or other appendages, just long, thin strands of pulpy, bloody nerves that trailed off the back side of the eyeball. But there were petite, bat-like wings on either side of it. The jar was too small for the tiny creature to extend its wings, so it fluttered uselessly, while blinking at them. Kagome had interpreted this as a plea for freedom and attempted to comply with it, until Naraku quickly took the jar away.

She probably should not be so excited about this. Anyone else would have been alarmed to see so many monsters in one place. But Kagome felt practically high, galvanized by the sight of magic. First, she had seen Masao's curse. Then, she had learned how to triumph over magic doorways that confuse people. And now, it seemed there were _monsters_ in the house. It was like she had suddenly fallen off the edge of the world and appeared in another dimension that she did not understand. And if anyone had experience with tripping and falling into other worlds, it was Kagome.

So, she was thrilled. Masao had magic, and Naraku had magic, and she felt absolutely enchanted, even if she did not understand exactly what she was observing. "But it's so cute!" she squeaked breathlessly, extending her hand toward the floating eyeball with wings, once more.

Somehow, this appeared to make her companion even more annoyed and uncomfortable. Ruby colored eyes, glowing in the gloomy darkness, pinned her down rather disbelievingly. "You think the youkai are cute?"

She ignored the incredulous tone of his voice, moving on to more important pursuits. Like exploring the rest of the room. The wooden planks beneath her feet squelched, as she turned to investigate the pile of urns behind her. One of them was shuddering slightly, in time with a heartbeat, thrumming gently into the darkness.

Naturally, when she reached for the lid of the urn, he pulled her hands away from it too. Dragging the smaller girl against his chest, Naraku wrapped his hand around both of her wrists. Next, he scooped up her legs with the other arm, until she was rather uncomfortably tucked against his chest, and proceeded to carry her out of the room.

"Hey! No, I won't touch anything else, I promise!" she whined, sensing she had used up the tiny residue of his patience. But he did not listen, and she did not struggle. Wide-eyed, she peered back over Naraku's shoulder, resting her chin against his collarbone. "Oh! Oh! That one has nothing but teeth," noted Kagome philosophically, excitement still coloring her tone.

Once they were safely in the hallway outside the room, the doctor released her knees, and Kagome's feet thumped painfully against the floor. However, he did not release her hands, which left her in an awkward position, half-crouched in front of him. She glared up at him, tugging on her wrists. Seeing that he finally had her complete attention, Naraku frowned and instructed her, "You are not to return to that room."

She ignored the instruction. After all, she had only found the room because _he_ was inside of it. Not because she knew how to enter on her own. Not really. Instead of responding to his concern, she asked the question that most interested her. "Why do you have youkai in your basement? Er... attic? Wherever that was."

Soft, inky dark curls sank further over his face, as he lowered his head, turning to view the doorknob to the room he had just closed. Opening the door again, though, it only revealed a normal room behind them. And at last, he released her arms. "Can't that idiot do anything correctly?" Naraku muttered under his breath. "Stay in kitchen... not that difficult."

Rubbing her hands gently, she followed him into the next room. It looked like a study. There was a computer on the desk at the opposite side of the chamber. "Are you a sorcerer?" she continued brightly. The fizzing, bubbling feeling inside of her could not seem to die, quite yet. "Or maybe you are a priest?"

His baneful, level gaze seemed to imply the last theory was _very_ unlikely. So, she tried again. "A youkai-collector?"

This time, Naraku did not answer either, but he became far more interested in digging through the file folders in front of him. Kagome proved herself to be very adept at maintaining one-sided conversations. "How did you decide to become a youkai-collector?" she inquired, reaching for one of the pens on the desk. "I need to write this down."

A tight inhalation of air was the only sign of his dismay. Well, that... plus the fact that Naraku moved the pens away from her. "No."

"But..."

"Does this knowledge _please_ you, somehow? So much that you wish to keep it?" The words sounded so skeptical, so doubtful, that her heart went out to him.

Of course, she thought the little monsters in the other room had been adorable! Because they were! In the past, Kagome had even been known to find bugs cute. Although these creatures were nothing like puppies or kittens, she was predisposed to enjoy watching organisms that were... alive. All right. Perhaps her standards were ridiculously low. But still...

She nodded emphatically. Slowly, the doctor handed her a pen. As she added notes to the loose-leaf pages she planned to add to her journal, later, he watched her. And she watched him, too, realizing the file that he had pulled from the box on his desk, it was her own.

Hmm. How odd. They were both sitting together, in an unknown room, taking notes on each other. It was enough to make her chuckle quietly, from where she rested on the floor, beside Naraku's feet.


	17. Omission

Author's Note: First version of the chapter was too violent. Second version was too peaceful and slow. Bah! Naraku is hard to write.

I like Naraku more now, because they finally animated the episode where he goes (yet again) to reacquire his "human heart" Onigumo. See Inuyasha the Final Act episode 7. And why does he need Onigumo? Because Onigumo has dark, ugly, black thoughts. And Naraku needs to be able to ponder vile thoughts, in order to keep the Shikon no Tama polluted and dark. Whenever I watch this part of the series, I think - "Onigumo is more evil than Naraku! Onigumo wants to defile Kikyou, but what does Naraku want?!" I still don't know. Rumiko Takahashi ends the series, without telling us.

**Unscathed**

**Part .08 –** **Omission**

She was standing at a sink, spooning out miso soup into a bowl. There was another bowl on the counter. Sometimes, Kagome would forget where she was and expect to be in her own kitchen. The kitchen at the shrine. But she was not, and she had never really cooked food there in any case. Her mother had always made the meals.

Carrying the bowls to the breakfast table, she set one in front of the doctor. He was sitting there, with a pot of tea. So, she must have been making breakfast for him. Hmm. But there was no rice...

"Would you like some rice?" she inquired politely, since her own placemat had a tiny bowl on it.

Naraku seemed tired, not appreciative. With a stifled sigh, he waved her toward the chair. "No," he replied, "I do not need soup either."

Kagome started to stand again, to remove the bowl, an apology on her lips. But then it faded. After all, it didn't really matter whether he ate breakfast. And she should not apologize for being nice. Of course, she brought two bowls to the table! He knew about her memory problems, so if he didn't want miso soup, then he should have told her sooner. Instead, he simply read the newspaper and allowed her to waste time. Dispirited, she sank back into the chair, poking at her food.

She felt sullen and gloomy, because she had not slept well. There had been a dream which disturbed her. Or at least, she hoped it was a dream. But there were certain elements of it that puzzled her.

In the dream, she had been standing in a bathroom, looking in a mirror, and the Shikon no Tama was glowing inside of her hip. And it had disturbed her - because in the mirror she had looked older. And the room had been unrecognizable. And she had only seen a flash of an image.

Maybe it was not a dream. The movie in her mind, where she saw the Shikon no Tama shine beneath the surface of her skin, it was short. That was the way her memories formed, nowadays. Tiny flashes of color and light. So, perhaps it was a memory.

But that idea was even more upsetting! It made her wonder whether the Jewel was torn out at all. Maybe she only _thought_ that she had fallen into the past and had the Shikon no Tama ripped out...

Noticing her downcast expression, while she picked at her food, the man across from her folded up the newspaper. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, looking exasperated now, not just tired. "But _thank you_," Naraku continued blandly.

"Hmm?" She looked up, only to realize that he must be talking about the soup bowl. The words did not sound very sincere, but it was still nice to hear him acknowledge her efforts. Perhaps he believed an unwanted breakfast was the only thing bothering her. "You're welcome," Kagome smiled weakly, attempting to explain her mood. "I had a bad dream, that's all."

When he did not lift the newspaper again, she interpreted it as a cue to continue.

"In my dream," she said slowly, "I found the Shikon no Tama."

Steam was drifting off the surface of her soup, and she refused to glance at anything else. Still, she could almost feel his gaze sharpen, attention completely focused on her. Ironically, this made her feel even more anxious.

"Really?" responded Naraku. His voice sounded studiously calm and smooth. Uninterested. But then, the dissimulation was ruined by his follow-up question. "Where?"

Frowning, she bit her lower lip. A psychiatrist should ask other questions. For instance, he could inquire about how the dream had made her feel. Instead, he asked _where_ she found the Jewel.

And right then, she realized something was wrong. Terribly wrong. It felt like they had spoken on this subject before, and the depths of her mind warned her to be cautious.

So, she followed her first impulse. She lied to him. "I don't know." It was an easy enough deception. Kagome's mind was damaged, and it held on to very little. No, she did not know where the Jewel was. Of course not. "I don't remember."

Claiming that she did not know where the Shikon no Tama might be, it was just a harmless fib, in her opinion. Like "_I'll start my diet tomorrow_" or "_This will hurt me more than it hurts you_." More than a white lie, but less than a... big lie.

Unfortunately, she did not manage to deliver the line convincingly. Lying took practice. And as if he could smell the falsehood, anger surged through his expression, and Naraku rose to his feet. "You are lying to me," he noted. "Until now, you have never done so."

Kagome blinked, wondering how he would know such a thing. Perhaps her eyes made it incredibly obvious? "There is a first time for everything, I suppose," she laughed uncomfortably.

"No," he contradicted her venomously. "Not for this."

She shrank back into the chair. One hand aimlessly reached for the collar of her shirt, scraping at the cloth there. But there was no Shikon no Tama around her throat. The necklace was long gone.

"Well, then. Perhaps you are more forthcoming in your journals," Naraku decided. Latching onto her arm with one hand, he dragged her toward the door. Kagome squeaked in surprise. His fingers dug into her flesh through the shirt.

"Hey!" Kagome protested. She batted weakly at the arm that was pulling her along. "You can't just read my journal... journals..." When this had no effect, she tugged against him once more. Naraku ignored her. "It was a dream, you know. Weren't you listening to that part?"

"Perhaps."

They entered another room, and she saw pale pink pajamas crumpled on the bedcovers. Those were her pajamas. And the bathroom that connected to the chamber, it was the same one from her dream. Goosebumps rose along the back of her neck. The very same room...

That was even more upsetting. How could Naraku have known it was not just a dream, like she claimed? Simply because of one itsy-bitsy lie? She must be incredibly honest, on a regular basis, if a _single_ lie was enough to raise someone's suspicions to this level.

She explored the bathroom, running her hands over the countertop in surprise. Behind her, sitting on the bed, a dark-haired man checked through one of her journals, without a word of permission. Kagome frowned again, staring at the mirror that dimly reflected them both.

Eventually, he threw the notebook aside. It fluttered untidily to the side of the bed, landing face-down on the covers. A small thrill of triumph surfaced in her chest. He looked sour and dissatisfied. And somehow, this made her happy.

"Nothing in there, hmm?" she inquired casually, gazing at Naraku through the bathroom mirror. He tilted his head to the side, contemplating her. His expression looked so serious, so pensive, that she could not resist taunting him a little bit. "Aww. Too bad."

Unfortunately, this was a mistake. Striding the short distance to the doorway, he reached through it and spun her to face the bedroom once more. Eyes narrowed, Naraku glared at her, keeping a hand on each shoulder to pin her in place.

"Where is it?" he hissed, leaning forward, towering over her.

Kagome cringed backward, pressing her spine against the doorframe. This morning was only a few minutes old, and already it was not turning out well. "I don't..."

There was a bright explosion of pain in her cheek, and she turned her head, stumbling against the countertop on her other side. As her eyes watered, Kagome raised one palm to her face in shock. He slapped her? Yes, he had slapped her!

"No more lies," Naraku disapproved, calmly. "Not with me."

Instantly furious, she whirled about to face him. There were no words to express how incredibly angry she felt, at that moment. So, Kagome settled for the easiest, most direct route. "How dare you!" she spat. "I hate you!"

Was this the first time that he struck her? Maybe he beat her black and blue, every day, and she just didn't remember it. She would remember things like that, wouldn't she?

Poking at her cheek, she prodded the area, while looking in the mirror. It didn't look red. Hmm. It didn't hurt anymore either. The sharp stinging feeling had quickly faded.

All right, fine. So, he did not hit her very hard. But that didn't make it okay!

"Even if I did find the Shikon no Tama, I wouldn't tell _you_ where it is," she argued spitefully. "It doesn't matter. Why should you care about it?"

The soft, dark curls that framed his face seemed to flutter in an invisible breeze, as she stared at his reflection, and the redness in his eyes almost burned. The feeling of cold, which sometimes surrounded her in Naraku's office, it nearly overwhelmed her now. "Haven't you heard?" he said lightly, "It grants wishes."

"Hmph." She didn't really believe that, despite what she had witnessed in the past. A Jewel which granted mystical power to demons and humans alike? Her grandfather told stories about the Shikon no Tama too - but all of her grandfather's tales sounded like nonsense. So, she associated the Shikon Jewel with nonsense, by habit.

"What would you wish for?" she grumbled, poking at her cheek a bit more and slowly edging away from the crazy, awful man behind her, blocking the doorway. The only doorway to the room.

A wry smile turned the corner of his lips. It seemed their moods were polar opposites. When he had been cross, a few moments ago, she had been delighted. And after he slapped her, her mood had plummeted, while his temper improved drastically.

"Me?" the dark-haired man mused. A long pause followed these words, before he finished. "Nothing."

Pressing her hand against her cheek again, she scoffed. "Then, what's the point in searching for it?!"

"To be whole," he said finally. Then, pulling the hand away from her face, Naraku moistened a washcloth in the sink and placed it into her palm. "Use this instead, if it still bothers you."

She tossed the damp washcloth straight back at him. It thumped into his chest, leaving a tiny water stain on his shirt and plopping on the tiles at their feet. He merely looked at the washcloth and chuckled.

"Go away!" she declared firmly, although anger was quickly evaporating in the face of his good cheer and the ridiculousness of their conversation. "I'm still mad at you."

Naraku complied. But when she emerged from the restroom, to write down what she had experienced on a sheet of paper where she would be less likely to forget it, she discovered he had stolen her journals off the bed. And her calendar. And her pencils and pens.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

She was sitting with Hojo in a road-side shop. The store sold Western style sandwiches and salads, along with a selection of Japanese vegetable dishes, like potatoes in sesame sauce, or daikon radish salad. The area in which they sat, it was a small strip of pavement beneath a striped awning. The tables were plastic and overhead, the awning had bulbs hanging on it like fake lanterns.

Strangely enough, she did not care whether Hojo saw her writing comments about him, anymore. Normally, she did not enjoy taking notes in front of others. It made her seem even more broken and helpless. But the boy had been annoying her for several hours now, and she knew this, because she had finally started to write it down. Right in front of his face.

"Well, you should tell me more!" the young man suggested happily. "I told my mother that you told me that you did not tell your mother everything, because it might upset her. So, she asked, 'Does she tell _you_ everything?' And I replied that I thought so, but I did not know, because maybe you forgot what the neurologist said, when you visited him. Anyway! I could help with that. If you explain what he says to you, then I'll help you keep track of it."

Obviously, Hojo failed to notice that she _didn't want_ to talk about her neurological treatment with him, or with anyone. "Not much to say." Kagome smiled. The expression felt fake and strained. "The neurologist doesn't even tell _me_ much."

In her datebook, she made another note. This time, there was a frowning face next to what Hojo had asked her. Internally, she wondered what the idiot wanted out of her. What information was she supposed to give these people? Honestly, Hojo was being nosy.

Eventually, the young man picked up on her subtle cues. She wasn't going to tell him anything about what the neurologist said. Kagome's smile became brighter, as Hojo's face fell. However, his expression only dimmed briefly. Soon, he returned to his normal hopeful look.

"Um... So..." pondered the brown-haired boy. "Tell me about your family's new apartment. You like it?"

She hummed noncommittally. In the end, she had no idea whether she liked it or not, because she couldn't remember visiting. Probably she did. An image floated to the front of her mind - Souta reclining on the sofa in a room with beige-colored carpet. Kagome blinked.

Well, then. The memory was there for her to discuss, so discuss it, she would! "The carpet is boring and old, but they have finished moving the furniture now," she announced firmly. "The apartment is smaller than the shrine, however, so they sold a great deal of furniture. Like the side-tables, and..."

Here, Hojo interrupted. He blithely began to list what had sold, and what had not sold, as if to impress her with his faultless memory. "And some of the bookcases. And the dining room table! You mentioned it was too large to fit in the new kitchen!"

Kagome bristled. It was not a competition. She knew that other people's recollections were better than her own. There was no need for such humiliation.

Even worse, it was obvious Hojo did not consider this humiliating. He was just helping the dialogue along, moving it faster. He _assumed_ she would not remember telling him about the furniture. And she didn't.

Yet exposing her to the depths of her own forgetfulness, it was cruel. He was rubbing her face in it. The fact that she didn't remember talking to him.

How could she solve this sort of problem? If Hojo acted like this, then she would simply tell him less. For the less she told him, the less he would be forced to hear a second time.

Perhaps this was a good rationale. She should assume that she had already told everyone _everything_. Because that way she could "repeat herself" less. It would make conversations easier, faster, and more enjoyable for everyone involved.

Everyone except her, of course. But no one really wanted to listen to a mentally-ill patient repeating stories, word for word, again and again.

"Yes, that's right." Kagome nodded. Adding another few frowning faces to the notes which she was taking about Hojo, she finally closed her calendar. Stuffing the datebook back into her purse, she sighed. Her friend was still speaking in the background, but she was no longer attentive.

"I'd like to leave now, if you please," she ended the conversation abruptly, placing a wad of small bills on the table to pay for her lunch. Hojo gaped in shock. Kagome didn't worry about his feelings.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

"Oh... dear," declared Naraku, while unbuttoning the collar of his shirt. Insincerity poured off him in palpable waves. "Only days ago, you were so _good_ at finding rooms in this house, despite the shifting floorplan."

With an exasperated huff, Kagome turned and walked out the bedroom door. One more time. She was trying to find her own room. But somehow, it was hiding. And her host was not leading her there. He seemed to take more pleasure in watching her flounder.

The instructions on her calendar, which she always carried in the center pocket of her purse, they said that she should simply hold the doorframe. Any doorframe. Then, she should step forward and backward through the portal, envisioning where she needed to be. And the room would appear.

Still, it was hard to picture her bedroom. She was not sleepy. Plus, it didn't feel like it was _hers_. In Kagome's mind, she still slept in a pink-themed, upstairs room, above the old shrine grounds. What did her room look like here? White walls. Black coverlet. Boring.

Closing her eyes, she stepped in and out of the nearest chamber door. She could feel a prickle of cold wash over her skin, but when she walked forward, she merely discovered the same room that she had exited. Naraku was hanging his shirt in the closet. As she watched, he untucked the sides of his undershirt, and Kagome whirled in place, storming out the doorway once more.

Only to return a few moments later. By this time, he was unthreading a belt from the slacks that he wore. Arching one brow, Naraku did not even comment.

Naturally, it was difficult for her concentration, if she had to think about... people undressing. Naraku undressing. Damn it! There was no way to control the destination of the stupid doorways in this house, if she was distracted.

She waited for a while in the hallway. Just in case. Failing to reach the proper bedroom yet _again_ would be less embarrassing, if she gave him enough time to get in bed, or wear a bathrobe, or cover himself with something else, or...

These thoughts were not good. She was not having them. She hated Naraku. Sort of. Mostly.

The third time that she appeared in the _wrong _ bedroom, Kagome protested. "You're doing this on purpose!" she exclaimed. "You changed the pattern."

He was reclining against the headboard of a large, comfortable-looking bed. With a pair of reading glasses on his nose and a book in his lap, he looked more amused than ever. "No, no. I didn't do anything at all."

"Did too." She stamped one foot.

"It is very amusing to watch you fail," Naraku decided, finally glancing down at the book he held. "Keep trying."

She began to walk aimlessly through the house, entering and exiting rooms. Oddly enough, she found the kitchen twice, the office three times, the library five times, and several different versions of a living room or den, with a television in the corner. Although the size and placement of the television and chairs kept changing.

But the rest of the time, she simply returned to Naraku's bedroom. Once she even found it, by way of an attaching door into the master bathroom. The more often it happened, of course, the more obsessed her mind became. It was like she was gradually getting stuck in a rut. Instead of envisioning her own bedroom, she envisioned dark hair and dusky eyes, laughing at her. And almost every time, this made her return to the same spot.

After a while, he slid a bookmark into the pages and deposited his book on a stand beside the bed. "Well, if it is so important to you," Naraku added happily. "Then you may stay."

Kagome blushed furiously, waving her hands in the air. "N-no. I'm not staying in your room. I'm sleeping on the..."

"It's a big enough bed."

"Nuh-uh."

"Get in."

"No way!" she shouted. She had found her room once, earlier, because she was wearing her pajamas. So, she knew it was possible. But the couch was fine, she decided, she would sleep on the couch, if she could not uncover the location of the guest room.

A hand caught her own, before she could escape with her mortification. Her blush only intensified, when he threaded her fingers through his, pulling her toward the bed on the other side of the room. He was wearing a thin, white yukata as sleepwear, but he had not tied it very securely, and she could see a portion of smooth, unblemished skin beneath it. Not that she was thinking about his chest. She wasn't.

Diving beneath the covers, she scooted all the way to the furthest corner of the bed. An entire body could fit between Naraku and herself. She also turned her back on him, and then stuffed her head under a pillow.

But she stayed.

And of course, she could not sleep at all, considering where she was and whom she was with.


	18. Dreams

Author's Note: Oh my god. I took a bar examination, and then... a wedding (my own). Now, I am married, and I live in a new city (which is stressful to someone without a memory). After two months, I am finally beginning to learn where items are, inside the house. But it still feels unfamiliar to me. Every day, I want to go "home" - only to realize, _this is my home_.

So, in any case. I apologize for the delay. On the plus side, I have lots of new (nasty little) experiences to add to my story about memory loss.

Each section of each chapter is becoming longer now. Kagome's memory (along with my own) is getting better, so I can write more, at once.

**Unscathed**

**Part .09 – Dreams**

Kagome lay on her side with her head tucked beneath a pillow, but it did nothing to block out the sound of _someone else_ in the room. The bedsheets rustled softly. A lamp turned off. Soon, only a trace of light from the window illuminated the room.

Heart racing, she stared into the darkness. What was she _doing_? Why had she stayed in Naraku's bedroom? It was not as if she needed his permission to stay or to go. No. If she insisted, then he would allow her to leave. But despite her better judgment, she remained.

Ultimately, it had been _her_ choice to stay in this room. Naraku had suggested it, and she had protested, but... then again... she had not struggled very hard when he pulled her toward the bed. If she had truly wanted to leave, then she could have done so. She could still do so. Yet somehow, it did not seem worth the effort.

It was difficult to make up her mind whether to feel nervous about that or not.

On the one hand – it seemed insane for her to stay in the same room as... as... as a man! After all, the house had a guest room. So, she should sleep there. Not here. Why would he even suggest such a thing?

On the other hand – Naraku was a doctor. He was not going to hurt her. Probably he was just teasing her, when he told her to stay.

Perhaps it was a test! He wanted to see what she would do, if he asked for something like this. Perhaps she was supposed to...

"Stop hiding." His voice interrupted her wild, mental conjecturing.

She froze for a moment, clenching her fist, pulling the pillow more tightly over her ear. But immediately afterward, she felt extremely foolish. Damn it. What was she _doing_? She should answer, not huddle into a ball and pretend that she was unnoticeable as long as she did not move.

With a deep, fortifying breath, Kagome rolled onto her back. Hugging the pillow tightly against her chest, she faced the ceiling. "M'not hiding," she mumbled.

Oh, yes. That sounded very convincing. Especially when she was clutching at a pillow like it was armor.

Evidently, he was dissatisfied by this reply too. Fingers traced down the length of her arm, from elbow to wrist, and her gaze darted to the side, only to discover that he was closer than she had thought, laying in the middle of the bed. One hand propped up his head, while the other gradually slid to a stop above her own and rested there, slowly heating her skin.

It felt like the heat from his palm was seeping upward, through her arm and across her cheeks. It was not fair! Although the only thing he had done was touch her hand, she was blushing. But thankfully, she rationalized, he would not be able to see this, because the room was dark.

"I should leave," she said firmly this time, determined not to sound timid or mumble. "My little brother, Souta, says that I steal the covers. And... you might... snore. So, neither one of us will be able to sleep."

A small frown marred his expression. "I don't snore," he replied with amusement.

"Ah!" Kagome objected, rolling onto her side to face him directly. The sheets twisted around her, as she moved, and she had to push the pillow down to leave enough room between their bodies. "That is what everyone claims! But people don't actually know what they do when they're unconscious. How do you _know_ that you don't snore?"

This time, he did not respond. She chose to interpret this as a sign of victory. Still though, she did not exit the room. She did not even get out of the bed. Perhaps she was not very good at winning arguments.

"Besides, it would be inappropriate," she continued, "For me to sleep... here."

His frown deepened imperceptibly, while his free hand glided over her arm once more, upward now, until it reached her shoulder. "In that case," he intoned softly, voice dark with humor, "I must be sure not to tell the neighbors."

A soft puff of air skimmed across her cheek, as he shifted toward her. Eyes wide, she shied away and the breath caught in her throat. No! This was not how a first kiss was supposed to be!

But in the end, nothing happened. When he saw her scoot farther away, he did not kiss her. Naraku merely traced the side of her neck, then her cheek, slowly rubbing his thumb over her skin.

Kagome's blush intensified, even as she started to breathe again. It felt like... she felt... Well, honestly, she was not sure. Part of her felt relieved, and part of her felt disappointed, but for the most part, it was hugely embarrassing. In some ways, it seemed even more personal for someone to stroke her face, than it would have been to kiss.

Furthermore, why was her mind wallowing in the gutter? Laying there passively, thinking about kissing. Obviously, that was not what Naraku had intended. He was just...

His fingers sank into her hair and curled, tugging her head backward sharply. She flinched from the pain, but there was no where to go, because she could not move her head. "What are you..." she started to ask, before he made it abundantly clear, by pushing her onto her back and pinning her down with his legs.

Frightened, she struggled to remove him, pushing on his chest, but it did not help. Gripping her wrists, he stopped her from moving entirely. In the darkness, his eyes almost seemed to glow as they trailed across her face, reflecting like those of a cat.

As if Naraku was arguing with himself, and she did not need to participate at all, his frown darkened into a scowl. Breath coming in short gasps, he leaned over, until his forehead rested gently against hers. She blinked at him, wondering what the hell was happening, and whether he was all right, and whether he was completely safe and sane. The latter appeared doubtful right this second, but she hoped to give him the benefit of the doubt.

"Naraku?" she whispered nervously.

He released her arms, uncurling and sliding down on top of her, until she was holding most of his weight, as if she was part of the mattress. "Don't call me that," he answered finally, a rasping quality to his voice.

Right that second did not seem like the best time for questions. So, she agreed mildly. "All right."

Holding very still, she wondered how to ask for permission to sleep in the other room without angering him. Again. Because she might need permission, after all. It hadn't seemed that way earlier. But now, he was actually _laying on top_ of her, so she could not move without attracting his attention. She didn't even dare to breathe too deeply.

The temperature of his skin was unusually warm. And she was uncomfortable, because he was heavy. And she wanted – no, she _needed _– to write this down, before she forgot it, which required paper and pen. It was this last thought, which finally prompted her into action.

Squirming slightly, she attempted to slide to the edge of the bed. Only to feel Naraku shift onto his side and then draw her back toward the center. After returning the pillow, he smoothed out the blanket so that it lay evenly across both of them and tucked her under his arm.

She frowned. This would not do. Falling asleep in a strange room, it would only terrorize her when she woke up, she just knew it! In the morning, Kagome would open her eyes, see Naraku lying in the same bed, and she would panic, because she would not have any memory of how she had come to be in such a situation. There, now. That was a good argument for why she should sleep in the guest room - much better than the stupid reasons she had invented earlier. Why had she come up with such pitiful excuses? Perhaps she had not really wanted to leave.

"I tend to forget things when I go to sleep," Kagome murmured. "So, I should... you know... write down my location, in order to skip worrying about it, in the morning."

His arms tightened around her. Apparently, her request had the opposite effect than she desired. Naraku acted even less willing to release her. "No," he contradicted her. "I will wake you."

And for the first time, she thought, she could hear the lie hiding within words that he did _not_ say. He might wake her, in the morning, but that did not mean his explanation would be complete. It might not even be _true_. At the moment, she could not find the usual amount of trust in her heart, for the person behind her.

"I would really like to..." she started to repeat herself.

But then, the other half of the equation finally occurred to her. Even if she did write this down, even if she transcribed everything that happened this evening, it would not assist in any way. Before her accident, she had never reviewed the pages of her diary. It was highly unlikely that she would bother to review those pages, now.

Besides... keeping a journal simply cataloged events, it did not _clarify_ them. It would be pointless to write down a succession of events, without touching the depths, without remembering the _purpose_ of the exercise. What could she really _learn_ from tonight? Nothing. Nothing other than the fact she enjoyed her privacy, but not enough to safeguard it. She thought Naraku was attractive and confusing (and a bit frightening when he pulled on her hair), but she did not want to write _those _ideas on paper. In the end, she did not have any information worth entering into a journal.

With a sigh, Kagome relaxed and settled into the mattress. He would explain everything in the morning. And she would think that he was telling the truth. And perhaps he would be.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

_It smelled like coffee, but Kagome hated coffee. The air was cold, absolutely frigid, and she thought the air-conditioning must be too strong. The office space in front of her was cluttered, and it didn't make sense, with two desks at an angle, one of them covered with papers that she could not read. _

_What was she doing here? Oh, yes. She was a secretary. Two people, a woman and a man, sat in front of her. The woman's hair gathered in a tight bun, and the man was in a suit. He looked eager to please, and Kagome recognized this, because she had seen the same sort of smile on her own face in the mirror. _

_She could not understand what they were saying, however, no matter how hard she tried. Something about a job application. Wait! He was applying for her job! But she already worked here... he could not simply take her position. _

_But she had to apply too, didn't she? She was only a temporary worker. She had to apply, and that was why she was carrying a nice, red folder. A nice, red folder that contained a resume, a yellow pad of paper, and many business cards in the front pocket. _

"_Here, I finished my application," she said quickly, holding out the resume, interrupting their conversation. She shoved the sheet of paper between their bodies, but the older woman merely glared at her. _

"_You hoped to continue working for this company?" asked the lady contemptuously. "Then, it would have been wise to submit an application, by Friday. The position has been filled."_

_It was Monday, now. Kagome knew this. It was upsetting. _

_But surely, they would not want a new employee. Not when she already knew how to work here. Not because of a simple, forgetful mistake. She was only a few days late. She had known that she needed to apply for the job, but she had problems with her memory, so she had forgotten to prepare a resume, but now she had remembered, and it was not very late. Friday. Monday. What was the difference?_

"_Honestly, this is very unfortunate," continued the woman, as if she could hear Kagome's thoughts. "You are fully trained. But now, you must waste everyone's time and train a new employee, after lunch. Time is precious, you know. I cannot understand why you would be so careless. I suppose that you did not want this job, after all." _

_Their eyes were judgmental, and Kagome stuttered a response, desperate terror building inside her stomach. She had not intended to be disrespectful. Yes, she did want a job, yes, yes, very much! _

"_I a-apologize for taking so long," she stammered. "I forgot to prepare a resume, until I saw the note on my calendar. You see, there was an accident, and I have problems with my memory. I have to read the calendar..."_

"_You failed to apply on time, because you are disorganized?" the woman snapped, "Because you cannot plan ahead? That does not recommend you. Leave us."_

_Kagome felt sick with dread. The manager was not listening to her explanation. It did sound terrible, actually. Why would anyone want to hire her? Someone without the ability to remember anything, unless the information was written on a sheet of paper, unless she was carrying that sheet of paper with her..._

_She wandered into the kitchen. There was a kitchen for employees inside of this office. It was tiny, with a drink machine, a coffee pot, and a sink with a disposal in it. There were cabinets over the sink. The room was long and thin, and she began to pace, up and down. _

_Anxiety overwhelmed her. The terrorized feeling would not seem to fade. Obviously, this was her fault. It was not the company's fault. A manager was perfectly correct to despise her for being incompetent. "Why did I forget?" Kagome asked herself. "Why would I forget something so important? I wanted to apply for the job. But I forgot."_

_No, no. She was not broken. Not careless or stupid. No. Part of her mind denied this, vehemently. _

_And she would prove it! This was due to a simple mistake. Nothing serious. She must have written the application deadline, but placed it on the wrong day of the week. A simple solution, then. Next time, she would simply write the instructions early – that way, she would not have any chance of forgetfulness._

_Pulling the calendar out of her purse, she opened it to the correct day. Today. But looking down at the leather-bound calendar, she saw nothing. It was totally and completely blank. White. No days, weeks, or months. She didn't know when it was..._

_Breathing was difficult, when she became this upset. There was simply not enough air in the room, and it was too cold. She would never be able to breathe again. A deadline was a simple thing, a small speck of information, and she should be able to remember it. Even without a calendar! _

_'Yesterday was Sunday' – such a simple idea. She needed to find a way to make herself remember. _

_Memories formed more easily with pain. Even a two-year old child, or a dog, or a squirrel recalled pain. If it hurts, then animals do not forget. Not on the most basic level. _

_So, the answer was easy. Lasso the memory with a painful event. Then, she would always remember the importance of recording simple details. It was important to write a deadline down properly, important to check the calendar in the morning. Then, when the calendar went blank, she could buy a new one before it became a problem. Yes. Easy. _

_Kagome looked around the room, looking for something painful that would not kill. She did not want to hurt herself, not really. Not much. Just a small cut. _

_But there were no knives in the kitchen, not in any of the drawers. She opened every single one, and she looked into all of the cabinets. Frustrated, almost panicked, she collapsed into a plastic chair near the counter._

_How could she solve this problem? Hot water, perhaps. She returned to the sink and she stood in front of it, running water over her hands, while the faucet was on its maximum setting. While waiting patiently for the water to grow warmer, she tapped her foot on the tiles. _

_But no matter how long she waited, the water never became too hot. Instead, it felt pleasant. It was hot, but not enough to burn. The office was too safe. It had been built by protective people who did not like lawsuits or employees who complained about burns in the break room. _

_There was another solution, but Kagome did not like it. The disposal in the sink. _

_Panting for air that would not come, she contemplated her options. She only wanted to remember, not to harm herself irreparably. She only needed a small amount of pain to fix the memory of this event in her mind. Loosing a finger would not help, in the long run. Would it?_

_Finally, she decided. It would be worth it. She would be very careful, only to stick the edge of her pinky finger inside the disposal, while it was running. Just the pinky finger on her left hand. And afterward, she would always remember to write important information down on the calendar. Afterward, she would never forget to look at the calendar each morning, because when she awoke, she would notice that she was missing the front of her finger, and it would represent the importance of this. _

_So, she switched on the appliance and turned on the water in the sink, because there was really no need to make the entire kitchen look bloody, once she was finished, and without water running, she might forget to wash her hands, because she would be in a great deal of pain. But that would be all right. Because it would have been her choice to feel pain. It was under her control. She needed a mind, a memory, a reliable-moment in time, more than she needed a fully functional finger. _

_Very carefully, she gripped her left arm with her right, forcing it to continue a process that she did not want to perform in the first place. It would only be for an instant, and only her pinky finger, and then away. Holding her breath, she found she could not even blink, because she was so panic-stricken. _

_The closer she came to completion, the more glacially paced her movement. Plastic guard, pushed out of the way. Strangely enough, the blades were not at the base of the disposal. No, there was only a spinning, metal circle. The grinder had to be on the circumference of… _

_Pain blinded her, cutting off her thoughts. _ She screamed in terror.

But there were hands around her shoulders and a voice in her ear, and she was going to be fine. Absolutely fine. The other employees would rush into the kitchen, and they might think she was crazy, but she was fine.

A finger was worth a memory. Pain would engrave these instructions, bright and crystal clear, inside of her mind. Don't forget. Take your time. Write it down. Be careful. These were important things to remember. It was just a finger...

"Kagome!"

Curled into a tight ball, she realized she had both of her hands squished against her chest. But the hand did not hurt anymore. And there was fabric under her cheek.

"It's all right. You're awake now," Naraku said, trying to reassure her, although he did not sound very certain of it. One of his hands moved from her shoulders to forehead, brushing the hair off her face. The hair was sweaty, and it clung to her skin. "Just a dream," he continued. "It was only a dream. Kagome?"

She blinked in confusion. Slowly but surely, her heart rate began to calm. A dream? Of course, it was a dream – a nightmare, but only an illusion.

Fuzzy with sleep, her brain did not work quite the way she hoped, as she hurried to explain. "It's okay, I did it on purpose," she explained weakly.

But then, she realized that would not help her to look normal. Normal, sane people did not stick their hands into kitchen sink disposals, simply because they wanted to make powerful memories. She frowned. "I mean, no... It was an accident."

As he encouraged her arms and legs to unfold, releasing her left hand from a death-grip, Kagome started to tremble. God, what a horrible dream. A small sniffle escaped.

Where was she? She must have shrieked so loudly that she drew Naraku all the way from his room to hers. At the same time, though, this did not look like any bedroom that she recognized.

"M'sorry," she muttered miserably. "I didn't mean to wake you."

Naturally, he immediately asked an impossible question that she did not want to answer. "What did you dream about?"

She shook her head, stuffing her face into one of the pillows on the bed. The fabric smelled good. Like winter. No, like nothingness. Crisp and clean and empty.

But he prodded her firmly, refusing to allow her to avoid the issue. So, she told him. She had this sort of thought-process fairly often. And psychologists liked to discuss things. When she considered it, she figured that he probably knew already.

"It was one of _those_ dreams," she began reluctantly. "I forgot to do something important. I missed a deadline. When I tried to explain, other people didn't understand; they didn't want to listen. So, I thought I should fix the problem, by…"

Hmph. How was she supposed to finish this sentence? Now that she was conscious, the solution that she had invented for her nightmare seemed insane and horrible.

It probably would work, though. Pain _was_ a very good motivator...

Kagome shivered uncontrollably. No, she was not going to do this, not when she was awake. Traces of the dream must be tainting her thoughts, that was all.

"I thought I should..." She managed to look Naraku in the eyes, but she still could not manage to complete the sentence. Phrasing it differently might help. "Pain helps to cement memories into the brain," she persisted. "So, it seemed like a good idea."

Although his expression did not appear displeased, only contemplative, Naraku stayed silent for a long time, searching her gaze. Eventually, she looked away, burrowing into the covers. It broke the silence.

"One of 'those' dreams," he reiterated her earlier emphasis on the words. "Do you have this sort of dream often?"

Kagome shrugged. "I don't know. Don't remember my dreams well," she said.

Then, a sharp bark of laughter burst from her, in response to an unintentional joke. Obviously, she did not remember her dreams - she couldn't recall _anything_, most of the time. But Naraku did not hear her joke, which was not very funny anyway, because she did not speak it.

"That's fine," he sighed. "Tell me what you _do_ recollect."

Maybe she had not told him about these dreams, before, after all. Or maybe he simply wanted to hear about it twice. "I only remember the scary ones," said Kagome, sheepishly. "Like, one time, I dreamed that I was married to a horrible person, who... um... raped... me every night, but I didn't remember in the morning, so I always smiled and greeted him happily the next day."

When he did not reply, merely listened attentively, she warmed up to the subject, gradually releasing her stranglehold on the blanket. "And another time, I witnessed a murder," she continued. "I can picture it, even now; my brain saved the image. But in the dream, when the police questioned me, I couldn't recall the details, so they thought I might have participated. I couldn't even defend myself at trial, because I didn't want to lie and say that I remembered something that I didn't."

Morning light filtered through the window blinds. At least she had not woken anyone before sunrise. That was good. Glancing around the room, she noticed it felt larger than normal. Also, the sheets seemed to be a darker color than usual.

"Do you record these, in your journal?"he asked with mild curiosity.

A-ha! So, she _did_ keep a journal! Although even then, she probably did not bother to track her dreams. They merely represented fears and frustrations about forgetfulness. She knew this. It seemed obvious that she would have such thoughts, so there was no need to record them, over and over again.

Kagome shrugged once more.

Her lackadaisical response prompted him to return with paper and pencil. "Since you do not feel comfortable talking about it, right now," Naraku urged, holding out a legal-sized pad, "Write it down, and we may speak of it, later."

At this, Kagome bit her lower lip, blue-eyes clouding over slightly. She did not _want_ to think about her dreams, once she was awake. But then, he was a doctor. It probably was a good idea.

"Write down as much as you can," he instructed, calmly. "How everything looked and smelled, how it felt."

With a sigh, she surrendered and dragged the paper onto her lap.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

"Ayumi Watanabe," the announcer called over the microphone. The crowd watched appreciatively, as a young girl with curly hair stepped forward to take a diploma.

Reclining on the grass, Kagome quietly watched the last of her friends walk across the stage. It was a small ceremony at the middle school building, and the announcer had requested that they _not_ clap, until every name had been spoken. Still, the inside of Kagome's heart seemed so full that it might explode. She wanted to cheer. Ayumi had always been her favorite – the most naive and gentle of their group of friends – ever optimistic and supportive.

A few more names, and the ceremony ended. Standing quickly, Kagome brushed off the back of her skirt and peered into the audience, trying to see her mother. There had not been enough chairs, so Mrs. Higurashi had taken a seat, while Kagome sat elsewhere on the ground. Still, she did not want to loose track of her mother.

From afar, brown eyes met hers. The older woman waved, and it meant – 'Go and see your friends' – Kagome could translate these gestures quite well. With a smile, she swirled in place and marched toward the graduates at the front of the courtyard.

Yuka caught sight of her first. "Kagome!" shouted the short-haired girl, with a huge grin.

"Congratulations!" she shouted in return. Her expression mirrored the joy on her friend's face.

Dragging her into a hug, Yuka practically crushed the air from Kagome's lungs. Next, she turned and pulled her toward the other two girls, initiating one last get-together, for old time's sake.

Honestly, they didn't even _need_ a ceremony for graduating middle school. It seemed a little bit silly. But Kagome was glad to have watched one, anyway.

Eri was the hardest girl to round-up, and the first one to speak, when she finally noticed Kagome's presence. "Ah! You came!" cried the taller girl. She had gone without her headband today, and Kagome realized that she missed it.

"Of course," she assured them. Then, hoping to turn her forgetful nature into a joke, at least for a moment, she gushed happily, "Forgive me for asking again, if I have already, but where are all of you going to high school?"

There, now. That would start their conversation on a pleasant note. Everyone loved talking about his or her own achievements, and students desperately desired others to feel proud of where they attended high school. It was like a badge of honor. And Kagome was a good listener.

Sure enough, each of her friends acted more than willing to repeat this precious information to her. They were all going to the same local school. Yuka and Eri seemed overly excited that the school-uniform involved a pretty plaid skirt and jacket, but then, this reflected their personalities precisely.

Kagome nodded agreeably, until the conversation came to a pause. Then, before she even knew what was happening, Eri had thrown an arm around her shoulders. "Oh!" the other girl groaned unhappily, stomping one foot. "This is unfair! You are supposed to be right _here_, with us."

Ayumi blanched, happy expression fading. At her side, Yuka hissed sharply. "Eri, don't..."

Ironically though, it actually made Kagome feel more comfortable to hear someone mention her head-injury. "It's okay," she answered quickly. "I'm right behind you guys."

They stared in disbelief, which annoyed her. "I mean it!" Kagome persevered. "I'm getting much better. I'm just taking a short break, but I'll finish school soon, and then I'll see you again."

Ayumi instantly picked up on her enthusiasm. "That's great!" she exclaimed. "Maybe we can help you study?"

Next, it was Yuka's turn to carry the torch. "Yea! Also, I bet you can get special accommodations on the entrance exam."

It sounded like a nasty comment, if interpreted the wrong way. But Yuka was always like that. She would search for advantages and pitfalls in every situation. When she suggested 'special accommodations' on a test, it meant that she actually thought Kagome deserved special treatment.

As if their words had sparked a flame, a determination to succeed flared inside of her chest. They were correct. There was no reason why she shouldn't finish school. Middle school at least.

It was just a test. Yuka was probably correct. She might obtain special accommodations for taking the high-school entrance exam. And once she passed, then she could study for a while, on her own. But allowing herself to fall behind, that was pointless and unacceptable. If she wanted to graduate from school, then she would. She would!


End file.
